


Flowers or Weeds

by floof



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Blood Ritual, Doribull, M/M, Modern Thedas, References to Child Abuse, Texting, kid chargers, minor fantasy racism, parent!Bull, ptsd and the issues therein
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floof/pseuds/floof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferelden's strange. It's not where Dorian would have chosen to run away to. But beggars can't be choosers, and Dorian's a beggar now if he's anything. He doesn't have time to make friends, and it's too dangerous to fall in love. At least that's what he tells himself, but a strange one eyed qunari and his gaggle of children tempt him even so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Star and Kas for the betaing! You both rock and iluvm.
> 
> I dunno if that 'graphic depiction of violence' warning is needed, but there's mention of the blood ritual, so better safe then sorry.

No one ever said leaving Tevinter would be easy. In fact, Dorian remembers assuring his friends repeatedly that he knew how difficult it would be, to start his life over from the ground up. 

“Now Dorian,” They would say, Felix with kindness in his weary eyes, Maeveris with a hand on her hip. “You know you're going to lose everything.”

But time and time again, he had assured them that it was what he wanted to do. At first it had only been a flight of fantasy, and even then he'd wanted to go to Orlais originally, or Antiva. Somewhere with a hint of culture, if stricter ideas about how and where magic should be practiced.

Maybe Nevarra, if only to see the Necropolis. Perhaps he could even find work there? Surely they must appreciate a man of his talents, even if his country of birth would be a strike against him.

And then.

Blood on the floor, hands holding him down, pressing him into it. So much blood, too much to be from one person, Oh maker, what has his father done? 

And then.

Running, he remembers running, barefoot, into the streets. Sometimes he curses himself for not thinking to grab something, anything that he could pawn off, or at least shoes. Even the pair he'd been thinking of burning they were so out of style.

What happened next is hazy in his mind. He remembers Felix? Perhaps he'd run to him in his fear, or maybe his friend found him. Even just touching on those memories makes his world blur, so he tries to shove it all deep down. 

The memories of his flight can keep the ones where his father tells him he's proud of him, that he'll always love him company. Right next to the one where he calls out to his mother for help, and she tells him to behave, this is for his own good. He'll have the Imperium eating out of the palm of his hand, if only they can fix this one little thing.

...And then.

It was no longer a joke, no longer a half game to go get drunk on his fathers coin in between sucking off men who didn't know and didn't care about his name. His dream about finding a better place, one where he could be if not free, at least less burdened, had to happen.

He remembers washing and washing in his friends tub, trying to get the blood off. Copper in his mouth, sliding down his throat. The ritual hadn't finished, but maybe it was enough to – and then there was Felix, gently taking his hand and getting him to stop.

“Dorian. You're only making it worse at this point.” Felix had said. There were tears after, more then he cares to admit. Maybe even some vomiting, though he knows Felix will take that secret to his grave. But fear soon turned to anger, and anger to action. The two of them hatched a plan, calling in Maeveris once it was clear Alexius wouldn't help, for all his mentor claimed to be fond of him.

“I can loan you some money, dear, but it will be a loan. You will be paying me back.” 

Dorian had nodded. He knew that very well. If not with money, then he'd owe her a favor. Several favors, really, with how much she was helping. Felix's help was different, but just as vital.

“I can write a letter, see if my status means anything since – well, you can't use yours right now. Father has had dealings in the south, not all of them good, but. I should be able to get you granted asylum, at least. But Dorian...The best place to head will be Ferelden.”

He remembers going numb then, even as Felix went on to explain his reasoning. The country was known as one of the strictest regarding magic and it's use, even though it had come a long way from the first Dragon Age. Dorian will have to be registered and check in with the Templar organization monthly, probably more so as an immigrant, but as he's a victim of blood magic, it's his best bet for claiming asylum.

In the end there's really no choice. 

~

Dorian has always prided himself on being intelligent, well dressed, and proficient at whatever he puts his mind to. The state of his little apartment begs to differ with that opinion. It's not that it's messy – or, well, it is, but it's more cluttered then messy. It's more that there just isn't enough space.

He's used to halls upon halls, wide as a dragon and just as tall. Rooms upon rooms to stash his things in, closets big enough to live in. Not that he has enough to fill such splendor up now. No, not anymore.

But the books he has are treasured, overflowing from the shoddy bookcases he bought from a coworker two, three jobs ago. They're stacked atop it as well, and flow out onto the little desk where he does his coursework, one of the lesser volumes propping up a wobbly leg. There's one or two stacked on the small counter with the microwave that makes all of his meals, as he's learned in the short while he's been here that he's not a cook and never will be.

There's a closet, where he hangs his 'best' coats, not that any of them can hold a candle to what he's had to leave behind. His other clothes; things he finds in thrifts stores or splurges on when feeling particularly sorry for himself; are all folded as neat as he can and stored in milk crates next to it. 

He doesn't have a table. Instead, Dorian eats perched on the counter, and looks outside.

The building his apartment is in isn't the greatest, nor is the neighborhood. But it does have one thing going for it. The view.

Below is a garden, a haphazard sort of one, but a garden none the less. He feels some thrill, thoughts of how his mother would turn up her nose at it. It isn't landscaped; there are vegetables growing right next to flowers, and hanging vines creeping along iron rods. Tacky decorations litter it; porcelain nugs and rocks decorated in some sort of symbols he assumes are from the – what are they called? The Dalish?

A near forgotten culture of the elves in the south, at any rate. Nothing Dorian has ever even heard of before coming here. 

But most striking is the sculpture in the center, made out of watering cans. It looks like some sort of student project; clearly amateur but with love hammered into it, even if that is a fanciful thought to entertain.

The sculptures painted all different colors, bright and off putting. Made to look friendly, perhaps? Some part of him says he should turn up his nose at himself, but he can't. It's so ridiculous looking he almost feels pity for the poor thing.

It's nothing like the gardens of his childhood, filled with peacocks and servant tended greenery. It's not watered and pruned to perfection. But it's green, and maybe this is pathetic, but he does find himself cheering up some when he looks out on it.

For the first few days in this apartment, he'd wondered why of all things, the sculptor had chosen a bull as their subject. 

Then one night after a late shift, followed by studying for a quiz the next morning at the maker forsaken community college he's had to enroll in since his former universities chose to believe his father over him that he was not here of his free will and thus his education was now moot; he'd woken to the sound of laughter.

Dorian had growled as he'd tugged himself out of his desk chair, paper stuck to his face, and marched over to the window. The sun offended him almost as much as the damnable laughter.

The garden had been covered filled with children of all kinds; a few elves, a dwarf, some humans; one even looked Tevinter; all of them laughing like they hadn't a care in the world. Dorian had begun to open the window to yell out at them when **he** stepped into view.

He being one largest qunari Dorian had ever seen. The man had broad horns, swooped out to the side of even broader shoulders. Each arm was thick, a layer of fat over muscle that made Dorian gulp as sweat dripped down the scars and veins of the grey skin.

The man's clothing was atrocious; a loose white tee stained with sweat; baggy shorts decorated in garish flowers. Some sort of metal brace was wrapped around the man's left foot; and Dorian had vaguely been able to make out bandages winding up the leg that he could see.

Sandals. With. Socks.

Most eye catching, perhaps, had been the eye-patch. The man looked like a mixture of pirate and tree hugger. Dorian didn't know which was worse.

Then the man had turned to look up at him, as if he knew he was being watched. A look of suspicion had passed between them, before the man had grinned and shut his eye in what Dorian could only guess was supposed to be a wink.

He'd followed it with a wave, but by then Dorian's senses had returned and he'd scurried as far away from the window as he could get. 

No, no, no. He wasn't going to be tempted, he'd told himself. 

That was little over a month ago.

So far, Dorian has been able to keep that promise. Even if he does sit in the mornings and look out the window, coffee in hand. Even if he was growing a little fond of _ugh_ children's laughter. Even if the bull horned qunari is, annoyingly, attractive in a way.

Dorian is safe now. Best not to tempt it. Besides, he has taste. The man probably hadn't meant anything by the wink. 

He's hungry more often then not. Tired from coursework he shouldn't even have to take, filled with questions he knows the answers to in Tevinter, but in Ferelden they have different views. He's working two jobs on top of that, and both are temporary things he knows he can be fired from at any time. The debt to his friends looms over his head, debt he's not even sure how to repay.

His father has tried to make him come home more then once; never himself but by proxy. But he hasn't found this apartment, not yet.

So for now...he's okay. It won't last. Dorian knows this. 

Every time he looks out the window and the qunari is there, he always seems to know Dorian's watching. Always has a smile and wave. It doesn't – it can't mean anything.

Dorian goes to sleep and dreams of things he will not name. If he wakes up covered in sweat and other...things. That's his shame to bare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters probably won't update this frequently, but I've got family visiting soon and I wanted to have a little more to this before I have to put writing on hold for a few weeks.
> 
> Thanks Star for the look over, Shae for brainstorming with me, and all of you for your kind words.

Dorian's just woken up, sticky from sweat but nothing else, thank you. He might be coming down with something, and isn't that just wonderful. His nose tingles and his eyes itch as he fills a mug with water and places it in the microwave.

A quick minute and some instant coffee later, he finds himself sitting on the counter again, looking outside. It's almost sundown so there's no children out tonight, just a lone, tall, badly dressed figure watering some hanging plants. With an oddly shaped watering can; he can't quite make out the details but perhaps it's some sort of dragon? Whatever it is, he's sure it's just as ridiculous as the rest of the garden.

His lip twitch and he takes a drink of his microwaved coffee. Terrible.

There's a jingle from the pile of clothes bunched up by his bed. Dorian's lips turn up into a real smile this time as he slides down from the counter to dig through until he find his most precious possession; a parting gift from Felix. 

It's a phone, probably the most expensive thing he owns now, and on the screen is a message from his dear friend. Dorian taps in his passcode and slides the screen to right, bringing up his messages.

'Haven't heard from you in awhile.' 

The words make his heart swell up into his throat, images of Felix swimming behind his eyes. He reaches up to rub at them and blames allergies on any wetness he finds.

'Oh, you know me. Just busy.' Dorian smiles down at the phone as he makes his way back to the counter, microwave coffee already cold. He drinks it just the same, too tired to even pop it back in for thirty seconds.

His qunari neighbor is still out watering; shirt now off and tucked into his absurd shorts. They appear to be nug print today. Dorian makes a face but still watches the way the mans back muscles move as he reaches up to water a particularly high hanging plant.

He only looks away because of a new message from Felix.

'Settling in to your new place? Is it better then staying with your host family, at least?'

'Don't remind me. If I never see a portrait of a nug again, it will be too soon.' The woman had been nice enough. But if he'd realized he was agreeing to stay at a nug farm until he could find his own lodgings, Dorian might have reconsidered staying in the chantry.

Even if they did spit on him from time to time.

'She seemed nice when I called.'

'She was nice. Sometimes a little too nice.' Dorian sighs as he types out the rest of the message absently, his gaze sneaking to the window once more. 'It was more that her girlfriend hated me.'

That and his pride stung at having to accept even more help, though the former chantry sister had insisted he'd never have to repay them. 

'Ah. I see.' 

Dorian pauses a moment to wonder how his old host family is doing, and when he looks back down there's a new message from Felix.

'You know, you never did answer my question.'

'Everything's coming up roses. I think I may throw a salon.'

'Dorian :('

'Oh whatever did I do to get the sad smiley of disappointment?'

'Dorian :I'

'It's...' Dorian pauses in his typing to sigh. It's awful and they both know it. He might be safer then he was in Tevinter, but it's hard to find a place with a month to month lease. One that won't ask too many questions, is in livable shape, close enough to his college that he can walk or take the bus, and doesn't care about his nationality.

He misses his fine things, his clothes and his comfort. He misses not having to keep a mental tally of where all his possessions are at any moment in case he has to run. Most of all, he misses his friends. Few though they were.

'It's fine, Felix. There's a roof over my head, the rent is manageable, and I'm sure once I finish my classes I'll be sure to find better work ;).' The smiley pains him to type but it will make Felix feel better, so he taps the send button and finishes his coffee.

What Dorian told his friend is true enough he supposes. Of course, once he's a little better off his focus will have to be on paying back the debts he owes. Maybe even hiring a lawyer to get some sort of restraining lawyer against his father.

Of course if he does that, he'll be kissing any hope of inheritance goodbye. Even if it is the faintest of hopes. It would mean giving up on ever getting anything of his old life back. Years away though the idea is, it still hurts to consider.

'You know Dorian, if you're doing that badly, I can wire you some funds. I do still have some assets.' 

'Perish the thought! The minute you are better, I expect you to fly out here and we'll throw a party.'

'A party huh? In your new mansion?'

'Yes. We'll get so drunk we'll wake up in Orlais with no clothes on.' Dorian starts to type out something about Felix finding a nice Fereldan girl (or boy, he can hope, if only so he's not so alone) and moving down here with him. But he stops, deletes it, and only sends the first part.

They both know Felix might not even get better. Best not to dream too much. He's seen where that path leads before, back when he thought maybe his father would accept that he liked men.

Dorian looks out the window one last time, but the qunari must have finished his evening watering. He's not there. There's a pang in Dorian's chest and he doesn't know why.

It doesn't matter. 

~

In hindsight, Dorian thinks, perhaps arguing with his professor about his test scores wasn't the brightest thing he could have done. Well, not that he's ever been able to keep his opinion to himself even when his life's danger. It's just perhaps he could've waited until after class was over, maybe not have made a scene.

Because he really doesn't need anymore enemies in this backwater country. But no. He just had to give in to his temper. ...Maybe he shouldn't have suggested that the professor got their degree from the back of cereal box. Not one of his best moments.

Ah, well. It was over and done with. The latte he ordered for dinner probably isn't the wisest move financially or nutritionally, but Dorian finds himself unable to care.

The elevators out when he arrives back at the apartment building, so it's up the stairs he trudges. With only minimum grumbling to himself. He figures he's allowed at least a little.

The sun hasn't gone down yet. Maybe his strange form of entertainment will be out tonight? The thought's enough to make him smile, although he's a little annoyed with himself for it.

Perhaps that's why he doesn't notice the elf until it's too late – the two of them collide; his precious coffee spilling all over. The elf, the floor, it even back splashes onto his clothes and isn't that just great, because of this indulgence he's out for laundry money until the next paycheck. Meaning it'll stain, and he's out another pair of his ever dwindling clothing. 

Dorian opens his mouth to give the elf a piece of his mind but she beats him to it.

“Oi! Watch where you're going, right?” The elf gets up in his face, teeth bared like some kind of wild animal. He's half tempted to growl right back, half tempted to apologize for spilling coffee all over her clothes. But a second glance holds his tongue.

She's wearing a tank top so torn she has to wear another shirt underneath just for decency. Her jeans aren't any better; with rips at the knees and what looks like burns and paint splotches all over. The coffee might actually be a touch of taste added to that outfit.

It's then he notices her hair. Like maybe she'd been going for some kind of bob but gotten too happy with the scissors. It's all uneven, and Dorian finds himself tsking at the sight.

“What now?” The girl pulls herself to her feet, shooting him a dirty glare as she gathers up her things; sketchpads, pencils, various art supplies. 

“It's – it's just I'm puzzled by your hair.”

“My hair?” Her nose scrunches up and she looks at him like he's crazy. “You run me over, spill icky sticky brown shite all over me, and you're worried about my hair? Ha! Piss off.” She shoves past him to stomp down the stairs before Dorian's manners kick in.

“Wait!” Dorian calls after her, biting his lip when he realizes he's not really sure what to offer in apology. “I, that is...at least come inside so I can offer you a washcloth.” It's out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Mild panic follows, despite the chances of his father hiring an elf to track him down being rather slim.

The elf raises a brow at him, holding her books close like he might snatch them away. She rocks from side to side in thought for a moment before laughing to herself.

“Ha! Alright, bushy.” The elf turns around, pushes past him and only stops to look back at him when he doesn't follow. “Lead the way.”

“Bushy?” Dorian sputters.

~

The elf's name is Sera. She doesn't give him a last name, but does tell him she lives a few doors down. Apparently he's 'Alright, for a man.' He's told her his name is Dorian at least five times now. It doesn't seem to matter; she's calls him Bushy, Priss, and he finally gives up when she settles on Dori. At least it's somewhat close to his actual name. They'll work up to that.

Dorian spares a moment to wonder if he's really that desperate for company that he's willing to befriend an elf with poor choice in haircuts and bad fashion. 

He shakes his head and shoves the thought away. Mourning his lost latte, he sighs and prepares two mugs of microwaved coffee. Sera tilts her head a bit but doesn't complain, just joins him up on the counter top. He'd apologize for the lack of seating but he's too tired to care.

A glance outside shows there's no qunari neighbor. Maybe he just missed him, or maybe no plants needed watering tonight.

Either way he tries to quash the growing disappointment in his chest.

“It's pretty good, yeah?” Sera's voice is right by his ear, startling him out of his thoughts. She doesn't seem to notice. “The sculpture. I made it.” She's practically beaming, and drinks her mug in one go.

“The what – oh you mean the...watering can contraption?” 

“Yeah.” She chuckles. “That. Prefer to paint, but workin' with metal's always fun. 'Sides, I owed Bull.”

“...His name is Bull?” Dorian takes a drink to ignore the flutter in his chest. What a stupid name. If apt. 

“Yep! Hahaha, yeah I made the same face when I heard. Still, suites him, right? 'Cause of the horns? I half told him he was crazy, crazier then me, but he did introduce me to my girl – You'll know her when you see her.” Sera swirls her fingers around the side of her head. “Got some of them loopy horns, right?”

“I...see.” He's not really sure what the point of this conversation is, but it's been so long since he's heard a marginally friendly voice he's loathe to try to get her to leave.

“Haven't been here long have ya? Seen you once or twice, coulda said hello.” Sera switches topics without a thought, pausing only to steal his mug and drink it down to. He sighs but doesn't comment on it.

“Yes, well...” There's no polite way to say it's safer inside then out, if lonelier. Less chance of being spotted, less chance of being grabbed. 

“Still it's all good. Know who you are now. You're alright, if a little stuck up.” Sera jumps down from the counter and makes her way over to the door. She stops to grin at him from over her shoulder. “Be seein' you, yeah? You're kinda fun.”

She's gone with a slam of the door and laugh. Dorian sighs but doesn't fight the easy feeling that flows through his veins. It had been nice to talk with someone, although he doubts he said half as much as Sera.

At least he'll have something to text Felix about tonight.

~

Dorian's dreams are filled with things he will not name. Vague shapes and hushed voices, lips against his. Bodies intertwining with his own. Hands reaching down to caress his thighs, fingers stroking his face. 

So it is to his great annoyance that he finds them interrupted by knocking at the door. 

With a groan and curse he pulls his pillow over his head, praying that whoever it is will take pity on him and leave. He spares a panicked thought that maybe his father has found him again, but pushes it away. He's barely been here a month. It's too soon for that.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It's clear whoever it is isn't going to stop, so Dorian groans his way out of bed and into some nearby pants. Maybe they're clean, maybe not. It's far too early to care.

He opens the door, ready to chew out whoever it is, but his throat goes dry. In front of him is the man he's been watching from the window for nearly three weeks now, a potted plant tucked up in one arm. The smell of fresh dirt and sweat wafts in from the hall.

“Hey there.” The man – Bull? Grins. “Nice to finally meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, got some unexpected downtime, so here's this. Minor Pentilyet in this chapter, if that's not your thing. Also, sorry this posted twice, I'm having internet troubles at the moment.

Dorian blinks. Once, twice. But the image in front of him remains the same. He holds onto a faint hope that this is still a dream, that some lost spirit has decided to toy with him after the desire demons had their fun. 

The silence stretches out between human and qunari. It becomes increasingly clear he's awake.

He gulps, sweat sliding down his neck. His mouth opens and closes without his say so, words lost to him. It was one thing when the man was – oh fine, he'll admit it – being admired from afar. But now he's in front of Dorian in all his glory.

Well. As much glory as a sweaty, one eyed, overweight qunari can have anyway. The man doesn't seem perturbed his silence. If anything, he grins, eye crinkling at corner. 

“Name's Iron Bull, most people just call me Bull.” Bull laughs, belly shaking with the joy of it. “Can't imagine why.”

“Yes. It is...a conundrum indeed.” Dorian finally finds his voice. With it follows a little bit of confidence. “Might I – might I ask what brings you here?” Not too much confidence though. His eyes trail around his apartment and he winces a little. It was one thing to offer coffee to Sera last night.

It's an entirely different thing to let this man; Bull, see it now. Although he's not completely sure why. Alright, that's a lie, Dorian knows he's a little attracted. Only a little. It's just his preference for men bigger then him rearing its head again, and Bull is certainly bigger then him. 

But that's all. Dorian does have taste. Bull, with his ridiculous attire isn't it.

Ugh. His socks are mismatched today to. If one has to wear socks with sandals, shouldn't there be a rule that they aught to match? Ridiculous. Annoying. Definitely not charming, no matter what the blush on Dorian's cheeks might imply.

“Just being friendly.” Bull offers him another lazy grin and a half shrug. “You've been watching me and my boys work out in the garden, right? Thought I'd say hello. See if you wanted a plant of your own.” Bull holds out the potted plant. Logically Dorian knows it's of normal size but it seems so small in Bull's huge hands. Dorian blinks at the realization that he's missing two fingers on one of them.

Dorian's eyes roam Bull's body then, growing wider at the assortment of scars and injuries the man has collected. The eye-patch was obvious even from his top floor window, but this? He has thick scars cutting through his face, over his lip. Crisscrossing his arms, around his neck, disappearing under his shirt. His hands are callused and rough, the scar tissue on the missing fingers isn't too rough. A clean cut then?

Bull grunts to get his attention and Dorian takes a step back nervously, caught out in his staring.

“I...” He coughs, trying to think of something to say.

“Nah, no need to apologize.” Bull shrugs again, and Dorian half believes him. “It happens. I'm used to it. So, this is a calla lily, just dug her up. Consider it a late welcome to the neighborhood gift.” Bull again tries to hand him the plant, and Dorian takes it this time. The confusion must show on his face, because Bull starts to explain. 

“Now, she needs a lot of water, but you don't want to drown her either. Just feel the soil if you're worried. Should be moist, but not soupy. It's a bit hot in here, so I'd put her over in that window.” Bull nods over to the one Dorian likes to sit by. “Lastly, she'll need repotted once a year. You get all that, big guy?”

“Yes, thank you.” Dorian smiles and nods. Internally he's screaming. That seems like a lot of care for a gift he never even asked for, from someone he'd never even planned on talking to. It was easier when Bull was some half denied fantasy. Now he's gone and become a real person to Dorian.

“Mmmhmm.” Bull frowns a bit like he doesn't believe him. “Well, she'll do good with you. The flowerbed was getting a little crowded. My boys don't like to weed as much as they should.” He chuckles fondly. 

“I...see.” What is Dorian supposed to say to all of this? He hasn't even invited the man in yet. Maybe he should, though the space is small with just him. With Bull inside it would feel like a closet. A regular, non-altus mansion sized closet. 

The choice is taken from him a moment later when Bull turns to leave. 

“Alright, see ya around Dorian. Take care of her now. And don't be a stranger. I don't bite.” Bull grins at him over his shoulder and winks. “Unless asked.” With that, the qunari makes his way to the stairs, humming a tune.

It only occurs to him once Bull is out of sight that Dorian never gave him his name.

~

A few days later finds Dorian at work, bored out of his mind. It's mid afternoon, the heat would be nice if Josephine didn't insist on turning up the a/c for 'our patrons comfort'. There's one or two customers milling about the bookstore, but none of them need his help.

So it's without much guilt that he makes his way to the gardening section. He thumbs through a few titles, sneering at the ones which try to be funny. Finally he picks a book out and heads back to the breakroom. He'll only be gone a few minutes and Josie won't mind.

She finds him charming. 

There's coffee, not brewed by him this time – maybe Cassandra? She does like to come by to visit her girlfriend around lunch, and she agrees with him on coffee strength even if she does add far too much sugar. Either way, it doesn't matter because it means he can have another few mugs of the stuff.

Josephine is a fair boss. The job isn't terribly hard, a little asinine at times but it pays well enough. She lets him schedule his shifts around his other jobs and coursework. The breakroom is always stocked with coffee, tea, and a few pastries. But her one coffee pot per day rule is just silly. Silly and unfair. 

Also, targeted against him.

Really just because he made a few too many pots one day and shouted at a customer doesn't mean access should be restricted. Anyone would've yelled after the fifth time being asked to find 'Yanno I think it's a red book, with a flower on it's cover, by some guy who did some other thing.'

Rude.

Dorian makes his way back to the register with his book, a muffin, and a new mug of coffee, sparing a moment to mentally thank Cassandra for not being subject to that rule. The next time a trashy romance comes out, he'll slip a copy into her bags.

He's only able to read for a few minutes before a voice interrupts his concentration.

“You know Dorian, when I hire someone to work, I actually want them to at least look like they're working.” Josephine sighs at him, tossing her hair, loose today; over her shoulder. “Even if is slow right now.” She's clearly not angry, just exasperated as she taps at his desk in annoyance.

Dorian arches a brow, further taking in her appearance. Her usual fine style (if a bit too golden and ruffled for his tastes) is mussed. Add that into the way her hair is down from her usual braid and bun combo... Hmm, she has a flush on her cheeks, and if he's correct, which he nearly always is, that's a hickey on her neck. He chuckles.

“You're one to talk. Have fun with Cassandra? My my, _Lady_ Montiylet, I didn't know you had it in you. At work no less.” Ahaha, he hit the nail on the head from the way she's flushing.

“You!” Josephine hisses, then bites her lip to take a deep breath and compose herself. “Not today. You will not get under my skin today, _Lord_ Dorian.” She gives him a mock bow which he chuckles at. 

“Don't think you can charm your way out of this either.”

“Me? Charm? I would never.”

“You would and you have and you're doing it right now.” 

A look passes between them. Dorian cocks his head to the side the slightest bit and Josephine laughs. 

“Oh, very well. I suppose it is rather quiet in here.” She does however reach over to steal the half of his muffin he hasn't eaten yet. “But why in Thedas are you reading about – is that a book on plants? Since when are you interested in horticulture?” Josephine daintily chews the remaining few bites, eyes studying him as he tries to think of a reply.

“I – well. That is....” Dorian sighs, flustered despite himself. Damn that 'Iron Bull' for getting him into this mess anyway. “An...associate, I suppose? No. Just a neighbor. He, They – Ugh stop smiling so smugly – gave me a. Well. A plant.”

“You have... another neighbor you've befriended?” Josephine looks around her bookshop warily, as if remembering the incident when Sera followed him to work. He really didn't look forward to the chunk that'd go out of his next paycheck to make up for that.

“I wouldn't say he's a friend. Just....” And Dorian could kill himself for flushing now, but he's in deep enough he may as well finish “A friendly visitor, perhaps?”

“A friendly visitor, hmm?” Josephine's eyes light up. “Friendly enough to give you a plant?”

“Yes. Some kind of - I believe he called it a calla lily?”

Josephine squeals at this, doing a little jump for joy before catching herself. Still she vibrates with excitement. 

“A calla lily? What color?” She can barely contain the glee on her face as she leans in closer for more details. 

“White.” Another squeal from Josephine. Sigh. “Or at least, it used to be white. Now it's sort of an off gray? If it hasn't completely wilted by the time I get home from class tonight. Can't keep the blighted thing alive.”

“Well that won't do.” Josephine nods to herself. “A gentleman caller and you're destroying his incredibly kind gift?” She shakes her head a little, then walks off, muttering to herself.

“A.... what?” Dorian stares after her in confusion. He's only more confused when she comes back, arms piled high with books. He's slightly aghast to see they're all books on gardening, houseplants, and idiots guides to keeping greenery alive.

Really he's not as bad as all that.

“Consider this a late 'Welcome to Ferelden' gift.” Josephine sets the enormous pile down on his station, pulling her card from her gold trimmed purse. “With the stipulation that you must tell me more about your suitor next time you see him.”

“Next time? _Suitor?_ Josie, your girlfriend is rubbing off on you.” Dorian disgustedly rings her up, glaring at the pile of books he now has to read. “This is a gross abuse of power!”

She only giggles at him.

“If you'd prefer, consider it a way to make up for all the extra coffee I've had to buy since you started here.” Josephine's expression turns serious for a moment “I know you've said 'this is all temporary' and maybe it is. But I worry about you. Not as your employer, but as a ...friend. What harm could a little fun be?”

A lot of harm. That's the entire reason he's in this mess to begin with. Dorian grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. No, it won't do to snap at his boss. She's only concerned, even if that concern is a little overbearing.

“Alright, _Lady_ Josephine.” He glances at the clock. “And with that, I believe my shift is done. I'll just lug this mountain of books with me to class, sha'll I?” 

“You do that, _Lord_ Dorian.” She giggles again and gives him a curtsy. “And I meant it – I want to hear all about him next time!”

Dorian rolls his eyes as he carries the pile of books back to the breakroom to get his things. Next time. Pah.

Still. This has to mark the first time his interest in men has been met with glee. Not scorn, or disgust, or thinly veiled worry over his well-being. Just glee. Like there's nothing to be ashamed of. 

It's one thing to see that love really is accepted here in all forms. His host family had been made up of two women in love, Sera has her 'girl', Josephine has her Cassandra. But it's another thing entirely to have it directed towards himself...

...Dorian finds it...comforting, in a way. Maybe even a little bit hopeful.

All the same, there will be no next time. There just can't be. Even if he's ever safe and settled in this place, Bull was only being friendly.

So what if that makes him a little sad? Dorian has to look out for himself. No one else will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of having the next chapter be from Bull's POV but I'm not sure.
> 
> Oh, and I'll leave it up to you what Josie and Cass were up to in the breakroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I got really sick then a family member got really sick so I had to take care of them. Hopefully the chapter length makes up for it?
> 
> As always, thank you Star for cheer-leading and giving this a read through.

_~ a few days earlier ~_

The Iron Bull wakes a good half hour before his alarm, as is his custom. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers to set the damn thing, but better safe then sorry. He can't deny it's nice to sit and listen to the empty apartment. 

It helps him gather his thoughts for the day, lets him know if anythings amiss. From what he can hear, no one is up just yet. Add that into no one crawling into bed with him last night, and maybe things are finally getting back to normal. Good.

Bull was beginning to wonder if taking Skinner in so close to the meeting with Krem's father had been a mistake. He still kinda thinks that, but the harms already done. 'Sides, at least she's got a chance here. Not that Giselle isn't a good care taker, and he knows the Chantry tries with the amount of orphans they get, but. Well.

Better that she lives with him. For all parties involved.

Ah well. Bull's laid long enough, time to get up. He pulls himself to his feet, whisper quiet from a lifetime of practice. Changes into his clothes; shorts today, with a tank top emblazoned with a cartoon dragon. He has a feeling it's a logo of some failed company, but his boys had been so excited when they'd given it to him that he wears it with pride.

Next comes his least favorite part; preparing his damn leg for the coming day.

Carefully he feels along his leg to make sure the swelling isn't too bad. It isn't, thank fuck, so he doesn't need to wrap his leg too tightly today. The added support is nice sometimes, yeah, but it just means he's that much closer to even more surgeries and well.

Bull would rather not.

Socks come after his ankle and knee are wrapped for the day, though he'll probably have to check on the bindings around noon, and finally it's time to put on his brace. He pulls it on, feels around to make sure nothing is pinching and his socks are cushioning his skin against the metal then buckles it tight. Bull stretches a bit, decides the things as good as it's gonna get and slides his sandals on.

He probably oughta wear shoes, more support that way, but fuck it. 

Bull feels his mind settle as he continues to prepare for the coming day. It's easy to peer into the boys rooms to check on them, and sure enough, they're both still asleep. Rocky's snoring fit to wake the dead, nothing wrong there. Krem's got a frown on his face that makes Bull worry, so he decides to make something sweet for breakfast. Maybe pancakes, or orlesian toast, though that's a bit more work.

Skinner opens her eyes when he checks on her, but she only gives him a glance before rolling over and pulling her covers close to her chest. There's a soft feeling in Bull's chest at that, and he decides to let them all sleep in a little longer. And yeah, they're getting pancakes **and** orlesian toast for breakfast.

Never let it be said Bull didn't spoil his boys. 

Mind, he does regret it a little as he's getting out the ingredients; flour, eggs, bread, milk, and all, but it's a good kind of regret. Like his Tama always used to say: 'Better to let your charges know they're appreciated while you have them, then to look back and wish you'd done more.'

He spares a moment to think about her. Bull has a feeling she always saw him as a caretaker of sorts; even if he'd been bred for fighting. He wonders if she'd be proud of him, even if he isn't part of the Qun any longer. 

He likes to think she would be. It might have taken him awhile, and he might no longer be her Ashkaari, but he knows she wanted more for him in life then fighting, spying, and dying. He's got that now. It's just a shame that he can't have that, and her.

The chime of a text brings him out of his melancholy. Bull digs in his pocket for his phone – a newer model, not out of any love of technology but more because they're finally large enough now he doesn't constantly wonder if he's going to break it. Still got a nice case for the thing though, all pink and sparkly. 

There's a new text from Sera, as well as some he missed after bed last night. Bull rolls his eye; that girl can't make up her mind whether she's an insomniac or an early bird, but either way if he texted her at this hour he's sure she'd have something colorful to say about it. That in mind, he only half pays attention as he skims them.

Something about an art project she needs flowers for (pass), a picture of her dive-bombing into her girlfriend's tits while flashing a peace sign (nice), several drunk texts he can't parse, then finally the newest one.

'Hey ya know how you where all worried last time we were over? Bout someone whatchin' ya or somethin?'

'Yeah?' Bull sighs even as he sends the text. He knows he's being paranoid. He does. He also knows that he's a civilian now, that the fighting is over and done with. That the Qun really has let him go. That he's got a life now, and kids and … he knows he's safe now. But what if they aren't?

So he can't just let it go. If it was just him, yeah, sure. Chalk the feeling of being watched up to PTSD, maybe go back in therapy if it keeps up. Find some physically demanding task to do to take his mind off it, find someone to fuck if that doesn't work. But it isn't just him anymore, hasn't been for awhile.

'Well don't~' The reply from Sera so cheerfully tells him. 

'Yeah Sera, that's really going to work.' Why is he trying to talk to her before he's even eaten?

'Oh shove off ya daft tit. I mean I met your little birdie.'

'You could have lead with that, you know. ...Also, what?'

'Your birdie! A little birdie told me? 'Cept it's yours and it watches you. Whatever.'

'Right. I'm going to pretend I understood that.' Bull sets the phone on the counter and goes back to making breakfast. Three chimes from his phone later and he gives up, checking it again.

'Birdie's name's Dorian. He looks all mwahaha but he's nice like? Kinda stuck up. Nice though.'

'He's Tevinter, sounds like he comes from money but doesn't look it. Really doesn't look it.'

'Oh and he's a mage, bleh.'

Bull blinks at the texts for a moment, trying to understand the information. From what he could tell, Sera had met someone in her apartment building next door who was male, mage, and Tevinter...and hadn't freaked out. Even sounded like she'd befriended the guy.

What? Then there was the bird thing, which he still wasn't sure he gets. 

He's no closer to understanding when the first of the pancakes are done, followed by the toast. He can hear the boys beginning to stir in their rooms, but the siren song of food still isn't enough to rouse them. So he sends another text back to her, hoping maybe he can make sense of it all.

'Sera, this might sound weird, but talk to me like I'm a child.'

':P Always do. Look, it's simple. You think you're bein' watched, yeah? Worries Woof. I met Magey last night, he was watching you. Through his window, not all creepy like. He's harmless. I'll text you the address if you wanna check him out.'

'But don't hurt him. I like the weirdo, even if he is all mwahaha.'

Bull pauses as the kids begin to wander into the room. Krem blindly grabs for his plate, piling it with pancakes and toast. Rocky sticks to pancakes until he's got a heaping stack, then adds one slice of Orlesian toast to the top before covering it in too much syrup before Bull can do so much as sigh at him. Lastly, Skinner patters into the kitchen as quiet as she can, only taking a few pancakes as she sits down at the chair closest to the door, giving her a good vantage of the room.

He wonders if he's going to find her hoarding food again, but doesn't say anything. All he can do is be patient. Hard as that is. 

It strikes him that maybe he really is a parent now, because the obvious dirty joke takes a minute to flit through his brain. 

As he makes his own plate, he thinks over the situation once more. One, he isn't as paranoid as he thought. He really is being watched. Two, Sera says the guy is harmless. Three, much as he likes Sera, the two of them don't always see eye to eye. Four...

Sitting down to eat his breakfast, he texts her back.

'Yeah, send me the address. I'll stop by, maybe even bring him a plant. Can you tell me anything else?'

The phone chimes now and again as he eats breakfast; bits of knowledge passed down to him from Sera. By the end of it he's a little calmer. From what he can gather, the guy is down on his luck, possibly a refugee? Poor as dirt but trying to maintain appearances. Hiding something, maybe beyond being a mage, since his staff was tucked under his bed (Ah but Bull is proud of the little snoop).

Probably not a danger, but it's best to check him out. After the mornings chores are done, he'll head over. With a plant, since Sera says he was watching the garden. 

Who knows? Could be fun, making another gardening friend.

~

There's one thought that echoes through Bull's mind in the following hours, days, and finally week after meeting his Admirer/Stalker/Neighbor and that thought is: Damn.

Damn, the kid's kinda cute. Even half asleep with his hair all tousled and dried drool on his face. Okay, especially with his hair all tousled and dried drool on his face. Kinda makes Bull want to see him all dressed up to the nines, if only so he can ruin it and see him blissed out and mussed up instead of tired.

Maybe he's getting ahead of himself. The kid – well, alright, not a kid. Looked to be somewhere in his twenties, maybe middle of, maybe late. Still younger then Bull, and everyone feels like a kid next to him. Point is, the kid – Dorian... Dorian's a mystery.

One Bull wants to get to the bottom of. Sera's probably right, Dorian doesn't appear to bear him ill will, even if he did glare some when meeting him. Might just not be a morning person, and Bull's used to people regarding him with suspicion. Even with the relatively high Vashoth population Ferelden has.

Hardly surprising a Vint would be suspicious of him either, even one likely on the run from something, what with the off again, on again war their former countries have had going for centuries. But there's something more there, a kind of hunted look to Dorian's face Bull wants to kiss clean and... Fuck.

Yeah, it's not just the mystery drawing Bull in. He does want to know why someone who speaks like a high born is living in a closet, with essentials ready to go at a moments notice, and anything really Tevinter tucked away in corners or under beds. 

Bull knows from experience how hard it is to leave a life behind. How home follows you, how you doubt but it's too late to take your decision back; you're stuck someplace that hates you and all you can do is make the best of it. The best of it sucks. ...Maybe he's projecting a little.

Point is, yeah, Bull feels for Dorian. Wants to help him out, read him in the first few minutes of answering the door. Dangerous, definitely, but not going to fight unless he has to. Probably fought too much already. More then that, though...

Fucking shit, he might be crushing on the guy.

~

It's been a few days, maybe a little over a week, not that he's counting, since Bull last saw Dorian. He's thought of him off and on, while working out in the garden, with his boys or no. It's been a fight but he hasn't glanced up in the direction where he felt he was being watched more then usual. Where he now knows he _is_ being watched. 

Alright, so maybe Bull's taken to wearing tighter shirts then usual. That isn't saying much, since unless he wants to hit the one vashoth specialty store around here, everything is too tight on him. 

And maybe he's taking more care in his appearance. Shaves every other day now, instead of letting his stubble grow for a week before the scratching drives him nuts. Still, he's a long way from smooth skinned, so it doesn't really count.

The kids finally say something when he takes to wearing his good eye-patch. The one decorated in silver filigree, with dragons etched into the leather bits, instead of one of his more beat up ones. 

“Chief....” Krem leans forward in his chair at dinner one night, pausing only to glance at Skinner and Rocky for bravery. “Uh... Are you having someone over or something?” 

“That'd be alright. I guess.” Rocky lets out a huge sigh, leaning back in his stool so far it starts to tip over, only his feet situated against the table keeping him upright. 

Skinner doesn't say anything, only stabs her fork into her meat with a little more ferocity then normal, her eyes meeting his. 

“Ah....” Bull looks around at his three kids, and sighs. He's always found being honest with children works best, even when adults would rather swallow a lie. ...He's also only had Skinner for a few months, compared to the four years Krem's lived with him and the coming on two years Rocky's been in his home.

He doesn't like to admit it, but dating kinda fell by the wayside once he became a parent. Oh he still goes out now and again, if he can get a sitter, but it's just that. A night out, never really more then that. His days of hitting a bar every night and bringing someone new home are over.

“Well...” Bull stalls for time by taking a big drink and scooting his food around on his plate. Never thought he'd see the day a bunch of children could have him speechless, but life's funny that way. “I don't have a date or anything...”

“But you want one.” Krem folds his arms over his chest, clearly unimpressed with his 'Chiefs' waffling. 

“Is she at least, like, hot?” Rocky stuffs the last of his food into his mouth and leans forward, eager for details.

Skinner continues to ignore everything but her food. Until finally, she speaks, so soft they all strain to hear her.

“You won't leave us, will you?”

Bull feels a heaviness in his chest at that, and leans forward to take one of her small hands in both of his massive fists. 

“Nah sweetheart. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” Bull winks at her. “Only got the one left, gotta take care of it.” He squeezes her hand lightly and reaches up to ruffle her hair. 

A glance over at his other boys tells him they're being polite for once; Krem doesn't seem jealous like he was worried he might be when Bull started taking in other children. Rocky looks disgusted but doesn't say anything. Good, maybe their talks about responsibility and thinking before you act finally sunk in for once.

Bull pulls away after giving Skinner a pat on the cheek. It's a little too quiet for his liking now, both Rocky and Krem not much into 'touchy feely' things while Skinner's trying to look like she isn't scared. So he stands up and stretches, letting his back pop audibly.

“Alright, Skinner helped me make dinner tonight, so you two get to do dishes. Don't groan or I'll make you clear the table to. If you don't take too long, I'll let you pick one show to watch before bed each. Sound fun?”

He regrets it later. After two cartoons picked by Skinner, an hour long special about explosions picked by Rocky (and Bull still can't believe it's someone's job to blow shit up for living, even if is under the guise of 'science'), and Krem's choice of half of some Dragon Age themed show with swords and spells. They take forever to put to bed, even though Krem doesn't really fight him on it.

“Hey, Chief...”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“...I don't really like you dating people.” Krem bites at his lip, tugs his blanket closer to him and shrugs. “But...I know you're not mom, you're not gonna just...forget I exist if you find someone.” 

Bull doesn't rush him. Talking of Krem's past is never easy, for either of them. But he does lean forward to run his hands along Krem's shoulders and give one a squeeze. Krem shudders and his face screws up as he tries not to cry.

“Look...Krempuff, I don't know if he's even interested.” Bull shrugs, 'cause it's true. “Even if he is, I don't know how this sh- stuff works. Day at a time, you know? But I'll never leave you without a fight. Mean it, kiddo.”

Krem opens his eyes and stares at Bull for a few minutes before giving him a nod, lips wobbling and eyes watery. A quiet 'Okay' is his only response, so Bull kisses his hair goodnight and gets up with a groan.

“Chief?” Krem calls out when Bull opens the door. “...If you really like him, The Harding's promised to take us out swimming tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah?” Bull still feels a bit guilty about that, saddling three kids onto them for the day when Stitches had really only asked if Krem could come along. But the Harding's had assured him it was fine, especially after the way he'd helped them adopt Stitches, himself being something of an expert at interracial adoption now. 

Though they had admitted they wish he didn't insist on using Bull's nickname for him. At least until Lace pointed out it fit with her sewing themed name.

“So...Just ask him out then, I guess.” Krem sticks out his tongue and makes a farting sound, then rolls over onto his side. “Ugh. Night, Chief.”

Huh. Not a bad idea. Straight and too the point.

“Night, Kremsicle. Sleep well.” 

~

As for himself, Bull doesn't sleep that well. He ends up with enough shut eye to be able to pry himself out of bed in the morning and make the kids breakfast, but only just. He doesn't even try to pack their lunches like usual, instead opting to give them all money. A few hot dog and burger meals can't kill them.

Stitches gives him a hug when the Harding's stop by to pick up the kids, and Bull spends awhile chatting with them, his eye always glancing up in the direction of Dorian's apartment. After they've left, he finds himself a little stuck on what to do.

Should he take his sons advice, man up, and see how Dorian's doing? If he'd like to maybe get drinks or something? 

Damn but he's rusty. He actually feels nervous. So it's a mixed blessing when he glances out the window. Is that Cullen, still in templar uniform? Ah shit, means he hasn't taken Bull's advice on finding a new job. He's followed by Cassandra in her seeker gear, the two of them heading to – Oh shit. Dorian's apartment building.

Okay, okay. It could mean nothing. Bull takes a deep breath to calm himself, unsure why he even cares. It's not like he's against templars, and circles will take in any orphaned mage, so they're good in his book. 

Demons and possession and all that crap – something has to keep it in check. Beats what his home country does to 'em. 

But...ah hell, Bull's worried. They can be rough, and with Cassandra here, means Cullen feels like he needs back-up. Meaning Dorian might be in trouble, and Bull wouldn't wish the seeker on anyone, let alone a refugee having a rough time of it.

He's out the door before he even realizes it. Might not be much he can do, but he's always been good at talking people down.

~

Bull hears the arguing from the minute the rusty old elevator doors open. 

“Look, there must be some mistake. I swear I've filled out all the paperwork, I don't know why my university contacted you. I've shown up to every single class, my grades are stellar, certainly better then any other students. This really isn't needed.” Dorian, probably flustered and trying not to show it.

“Be that as it may, you haven't graduated from any Ferelden Circle and -” That'd be Cullen, sounding for all the world like he hates his job. Should've listened to Bull, then. 

“If this is about not having documentation from Minrathous let me assure you I am _working on that_!”

“Dorian. Look. I like you, this isn't personal, I'm just doing my j-”

“It bloody well is personal! You show up here, on my doorstep, demanding I let you inside and look, as if there is anything inside you can't see from where you are!”

“Be reasonable, I'm not-”

“Reasonable? Reasonable, like showing up here with one of your Seeker attack dogs-”

“That is enough.” Cassandra pipes up just as Bull rounds the corner into the hall, limping steadily towards them.

He pauses, unsure if he'll make it better or worse by trying to intervene. 

“And you – I would've thought you of all people would know I'm not planning any sort of, of, blood magic or-”

“I have to remain impartial. For the record, I do believe you mean no harm. But my thoughts are not what matter.”

“What Josephine sees in you I will never know.” Dorian looks down, his lower lip held tightly between his teeth. He looks so...defeated. 

“Hey guys!” Bull steps forward, letting his weight fall hard so he makes noise. Last thing he needs is a jumpy templar, or seeker. “Cullen, thought you were quitting? You were talking about settling down for a while, going off to see your sisters, that sort of thing?” He turns to Cassandra next, spreading his arms wide. “Seeker!”

“Iron Bull.” Cassandra rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. She has to know what he's doing, but she isn't arguing against it, yet. “How very...fortuitous of you to be here.”

Dorian's just staring at him. His mouth is partially open from disbelief. His eyes though? They're tired. So tired, weary in ways Bull remembers seeing when he looked in the mirror ten years ago. This isn't the time but all he wants to do is gather him up in a hug, maybe slap his back to downplay the affection , just so long as Dorian gets some. Looks like he really needs it.

“Yes...” Dorian sighs, bringing his hands up to rest his head in them. “Why not knock on the doors? Everyone can bear witness as I'm dragged off to the templars and subsequently deported. I'm sure my neighbors will love that. I can practically hear them cheering.”

“Hey now.” Bull grins, though it doesn't reach his eye. “Who said anything about that? Probably just some mixed up paperwork or something, it happens big guy.” 

Dorian blinks at him through his fingers, hair mussed and mustache half out of its curl. It doesn't look like he believes him, so Bull glances over at Cullen and grins wider, showing his teeth.

“I...suppose we could come back later. But Dorian really needs to come with us some time today.” 

“No.” Dorian sighs, hands falling to his sides. “May as well get this over with...” He turns his head to the side, and says out of the corner of his mouth so quiet Bull doubts anyone else can hear him: “It was nice to pretend I had a chance of escaping. Pity...I was almost enjoying myself here....”

Well. That wont do.

“I'll come with you.” Bull reaches out to grip Dorian's shoulder and give it a squeeze. He jumps a little under Bull's touch, and Bull probably should have asked before hand, but Dorian nods at him, a small, sad smile gracing his lips. 

Bull tilts his head back to look at Cassandra and Cullen. “That won't be a problem, will it?” 

It isn't.

~

The journey to the Templars isn't fun by any means. Bull tries to lighten the mood as they're driven there, first by cracking jokes, then by pointing out the local scenery. Through it all, Dorian just glances straight ahead, that same defeated look on his face. 

Eventually Bull gives up, and just squeezes his shoulder again. That gets him a half glance from Dorian, and Bull will take it.

“You're... very kind. Especially to someone you've only just met....” Dorian's eyes close. He sags against the window with a sigh.

“Hey.” Bull chances reaching under Dorian's chin, and very gently lifts it up. He waits until Dorian opens his eyes again to look at him. “I know shit seems bad now, but I'm good at talking. I'll get you out of this.”

“Why? What possible reason could you have to help me? You have to know there's nothing I can give you in return.”

“Lotta times in my life, when I needed someone to look after me? There wasn't anyone.” Bull rolls his shoulders back. “So...I try to be there for people who need help. It's kind of my thing.” His left eye socket hurts, throbbing with the memory of an old wound, but he pushes it down.

Dorian doesn't say anything more, only leans into him slightly. Well. It's not how he pictured today going, but he'll take it. 

~

In the end, it takes them all day to clear up the mess. Dorian's got a black mark on his record, which, yeah, fucking sucks, but. It's better then the alternative. 

Bull drags a tentative agreement to a night out for drinks sometime from Cullen and Cass before he leads Dorian out into the street. Cassandra shoots him an apologetic glance as he does, and he nods back at her. They'll talk, just. Not now.

Now, he's waving down a cab, and pays before Dorian can even finish his token struggle. Bull doubts he even really wants to fuss, it's more about the principle of the thing.

Dorian doesn't speak until they're halfway back to the apartment complex.

“I don't...I don't know how to thank you.” 

“Ah...” Bull shrugs. “Usually find the words 'Thanks' get the message across pretty well.” He slowly and deliberately closes his eye, once, twice. Follows it up with a shit eating grin.

“Well...” Dorian laughs, a tired, whisp of a sound. “Thank you.” Dorian shakes his head, takes a deep, shuddering breath, then rights his posture. “That feels so very insufficient, but it's all I can say. First, the plant, then all this...for a stranger...”

“Hey now. Know your name, so you're not a stranger.” Bull smiles, and squeezes Dorian's shoulder again, firmer this time. “How is she doing, anyway?”

“She? Oh, the plant.” Dorian winces. “She's...uh. Well. She's still alive? For now.”

Bull pauses for a few minutes, eye going wide. His prize Calla Lily. That he raised up from a bulb. That he slaved over for hours in the hot sun while his back ached, while sweat dripped down his face and stung his eye. That he nursed through sickness and mites.

Has almost died. After a short time. In someone else's care. 

“Bull? You're um. You're gripping the armrest rather hard, there. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine!” Bull takes a breath, forces himself to be calm. Alright, so maybe he should've given Dorian something easier to start with. He takes another breathe. “How about you let me take you to dinner sometime? I can give you tips on how to keep her alive.”

“Take me to dinner? I can't possibly let you after everything you've done-” Dorian looks like he wants to argue more, but Bull holds up his hand.

“No, really. You'd be doing me a favor. I don't get out of the house enough.”

Dorian looks him up and down, a brow arching. Doesn't seem he believes him, and Bull's sure he's going to argue at first. But then Dorian just sighs and nods.

“That would be lovely. When and where?” 

By the time Bull makes it back home, it's with Dorian's phone number in his pocket. He grins as he opens his door, only to pause when he realizes he never locked it. Well, shit. Been awhile since he's been that distracted.

A glance at the clock tells him it's a half hour before the Harding's come back with his boys. Bull looks around the kitchen for a moment before shrugging and taking out his phone. A little pizza never killed anyone.

~ 

'Hey, Sera, think you can watch the boys for me some time this week?'

'Yeah. If I can't, know Woof can.'

'Thanks.'

'Need us to spend the night?'

'…Maybe.'

'Ooooooh. Bull's gonna get some.'

'Nah. Well, maybe. Don't want Dorian to think he owes me.'

'Hahaha! Knew he was your type.'

'My type is red haired and fiery }.I'

'Whatever. He's got one of those things. Wait, why would Magey owe you?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man let me tell you writing shit like Orlesian Toast is fuckin' weird but French Toast doesn't work in this setting so. Yes. 
> 
> This was supposed to be two scenes at most why is this my life aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
> 
> Might take a small break to finish some other things but it shouldn't be that long until a new chapter is up I HOPE


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much Star. This fic wouldn't exist without your hand-holding and suggestions. You're the best friend a person could have.

The next morning goes at a somber pace, if somber paces can be considered hectic and full of work. It's not even paying work either; that Dorian wouldn't mind. Alright, yes he would, he'd bitch and moan the entire time, but at least he'd have money at the end of it. Maybe even a few smiles from co-workers if he managed to be particularly witty.

Instead he wakes from what is at best a nap, having spent hours tossing and turning, mind overflowing with visions of being sent back home in chains, to his families waiting arms. His thoughts get deeper and darker from there; filled with bloodstained images and laughing peers.

Four cups of instant coffee have yet to banish them completely from his mind, so Dorian makes a fifth, just in case. He needs it with all the calls he's making; trying to find out which professor he pissed off this time. 

By noon he isn't any closer to figuring it out, and he's already looking at budgeting for a computer for next semester. Surely online classes will be easier? Maybe enough to make the amount of the ridiculous machine worth it.

It's times like this Dorian wishes he'd been more interested in technology like Felix or Mae. For years he'd tuned out their lectures of 'Not everyone is a mage, Dorian.' and 'It's a useful skill to have for trade relations dear. If you learn to conquer with both magic and technological might? Why, you'll be unstoppable”. He'd never thought he'd one day be stuck in a country that doesn't rely heavily on the workings of mages.

At least he managed to get the hang of a smart phone within a few weeks. Though that had been born out of necessity and, loathe as he is to admit it; loneliness.

Josephine calls him as he's poking around his bare cupboard; trying to decide between cup noodles or cup rice. They don't talk long, and Dorian shoves down a pang of annoyance that she knows about what happened yesterday, courtesy of her girlfriend.

“Of course, you'll be needing a few days off to settle yourself, yes?” Josie's tone is a mix between concerned and eager, a touch of gossip intertwined with concerned boss. “Maybe more, if your dashing gentleman caller has anything to say about it.” She giggles then, and since he's safely hidden by the phone Dorian rolls his eyes.

“He's dashing now? Before he was just a 'gentleman caller'. Which, by the way, he still isn't.” Even if they did something tentatively planned sometime this week. Iron Bull was just being friendly. Perhaps overly so, going out of his way like that, but maybe they just take being neighborly to an extreme here?

Alright, that he knows not to be true.

“That was before he came in like a prince on a white horse and rescued you. Tell me, is he very handsome?”

“There was no white horse. He has an eye patch and is overly fond of loud patterns.” ...And yes, Dorian will admit to himself, Bull is handsome. In his own way. His own mismatched, kind way. 

“So you pay attention to how he looks then.”

“ _Lady_ Josephine, I fail to see what the point of this is.” Dorian sighs as he reaches into the cupboard, finally deciding on cup rice. The phone balances precariously in between his cheek and shoulder, muffling the sound some what so he almost misses what she says next.

“-checking up on you. Cassandra was worried.” Dorian keeps his thoughts about how Cassandra should mind her own business to himself. He must have made some small sound of disbelief because she continues on “No, really. She says she's never seen you like that before. ...Don't hate her, Dorian. She was only doing her job.”

“Her job almost got me sent back to Tevinter.”

“She'd never have let it come to that.”

“If she thought I was in the wrong, yes she would have.”

“...Alright.” Josephine sighs “You have a point. But luckily your suitor came to your rescue.” Dorian doesn't bother correcting her this time as she laughs, though he does sigh loudly into the phone. “Now take a few days off, settle whatever happened, and call if you need anything. Or if you want to gossip about your 'friend'.”

They exchange goodbyes and Dorian decides to plug his phone in for a few hours; the battery having been thoroughly drained by the amount of calling and researching on the internet he's been doing with it. Point number two for saving up for a laptop; it would be nice to not have to rely on a tiny screen for all his researching needs, even if it was nice for casual browsing. He feels a pang of longing for his days in Tevinter; and its sensible reliance on the printed word over the digital.

He places his cup rice in the microwave, thoughts lingering on his phone call with Josie. On the one hand, it will be nice to have a few days off. He can't deny working three jobs on top his coursework hasn't taken a toll on his body. On the other hand, money.

After he'd said goodbye to Bull last night, he'd opened his phone to a voicemail saying he was fired. The second came this morning after he got out of bed. Surprising, what missing a day of work to deal with Templars will get you. He doesn't even have the energy to fight it. They were shit jobs anyway.

Of course, that means he'll have to look for work again and budget even more. Dorian entertains a fleeting fancy of asking Josie for more shifts, but he doesn't want to make more of their friendship then it is. She can't be _that_ fond of him.

The microwave dings just as there's a knock on the door. Dorian freezes, his mind filling with visions of Cullen coming back, or even worse; a templar he doesn't know and can't charm or fluster into not harassing him. There's no 'Dashing Qunari Gentleman' to help him this time either.

There's another knock, and Dorian takes a look at his bed, wondering if he's too old for hiding underneath it. Not that there's enough space, but...

The option is taken away from him as his lock starts to move from the other side, followed by a crash as the door is kicked open, slamming into the wall. Dorian blinks in surprise for a few seconds before he's assaulted by sounds and more importantly; smells. 

Delicious, mouth watering smells. The subtle spices of his homeland overlaid by the pungent heat of peppers, burning his nostrils wondrously as he breathes in. The soft, warm scent of fresh flatbread and real rice, not the cheap stuff he has in the microwave. His mouth waters so much he almost doesn't hear the arguing.

“Sera I'm. Not sure that was a good idea. ” Dorian looks up then, blinking at the sight of the speaker. This must be Sera's elusive girl. She's tall like most qunari, with muscular arms and legs; highlighted by her choice of shorts and tank top. Her red hair is woven into several braids, all of them tied back into a pony-tail, and her horns curl in a loop, capped in gold. He's a little impressed by her assortment of piercings, but her fashion sense leaves something to be desired. Perhaps it's a qunari thing?

“Oh shush Woof, it's fine. Landlord needs to fix these doors anyway, and 'bout time fussy britches learned the locks here are shite. Shiiiiite.” There's no mistaking Sera, struggling under the weight of several bags of take out. In contrast, 'Woof' is holding up her bags with ease.

“...Sera. What in Thedas?” Dorian sighs and brings a hand up to his head. He learned fast that there's little point in arguing with the imp. Even if he wants to object to his lock being picked and the new dent in the wall.

“Hey!” Sera grins at him. “Heard you've had a shit time, so, lunch!”

“And Dinner and probably breakfast and lunch for tomorrow to.” The qunari woman wrinkles her nose, but smiles as she ducks into the doorway. “Sera wanted to buy one of everything.” 

“Yeah 'cause it's all good! I think. It's all Tevinter food anyway, went to one of them 'Vinty places, right?” Sera unloads her bags onto his counter and promptly begins to unpack them all. Dorian begins to wonder if that isn't an exaggeration; it's close to overflowing with cartons and paper sacks once 'Woof' unpacks her own bags.

“...Can I ask why?” Dorian ponders refusing the food out of pride for exactly five seconds before his stomach rumbles. He's hungry, he's sick of living off microwaved rubbish, and since Sera seems to have dragged him kicking and screaming into a friendship, he may as well accept.

He gets out his meager assortment of plates and silverware before he's even finished rationalizing to himself, and begins to take bits of the tastiest dishes. It really is authentic; heavily spiced grains and meats, with sweet flatbread on the side. The food isn't the best he's had, but his eyes mist up as he takes his first bite, recalling the home he'll never see again. He looks away lest Sera sees and calls him on it.

“Said why yeah?” Sera doesn't bother with any of the plates, choosing instead to heap bits of food onto flatbread and eat it like some sort of Ferelden sandwich. “You've had a crap time of it, yeah? So food. Even stupid 'Vinty food. Supposed to be better if its home-cooked, but I can't cook for piss. Could bring you cookies sometime.” She swallows her food in two bites, cheeks puffing out like a rodents, then makes another of her blasphemous sandwiches.

“Um. Well. As best I understand it, Uncle Bull told Sera you had some problems with templars the other day, and Sera was worried.” 'Woof' brushes a loose braid behind her ear and gives him a nervous smile. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. Hi! I'm Ataashi Adaar, but my friends call me Taash.” She wrinkles her nose again. “Or Adaar. Most of them call me Adaar, actually. Which makes things fun when they call for me at home. But you. Probably don't want to hear about that.” 

She giggles and nervously fidgets some more, before she finally takes a seat on the floor, plate in hand. She's just under eye-level sitting down.

“That's my Bow Wow Woof Woof. Woof for short.” Sera beams with pride as she starts on her third – or is it her fourth? Sandwich.

“Taash, please. Or Adaar if that's easier.”

“Woof.”

“Taash, or Adaar. Please.”

Sera giggles at that and kicks her feet as she slides off of Dorian's counter to help herself to some water from the sink. Dorian can only blink as he takes in all the information.

“...Uncle Bull?” How big of a family does the man have, anyway? Bull had mentioned his 'boys' a few times and Dorian had assumed he meant the gaggle of children Dorian sees out in the garden with him. But as far as he can tell from his vantage point, none of them are qunari.

“He's not really my uncle.” Taash takes a bite of her food, careful to chew and swallow before continuing on. “But when he first arrived in Ferelden, he made friends with my moms. They showed him the Tal-Vashoth ropes, I guess? So I knew him growing up, and a lot of us call him that. Oh. Um. Us, being the Adaar kids.” She brushes her loose braid behind her ear again, and Dorian wonders why she doesn't just tie in back like the others. 

“Bull shares my sordid life stories over text?” Dorian turns to Sera then, his brow arched. He's not sure how to feel about that. 

“Only 'cause I bugged him 'bout it nonstop.” Sera shrugs as she sits down on the floor next to her girlfriend to steal bits from her plate. Taash looks amused by the proceedings. “Said I'd go knock on your door iffin he didn't tell me, and he said to let ya sleep.”

“I see.” Dorian doesn't, not really. Not that there's anything he can do about it. Life in Ferelden seems determined to make him think on his feet. 

He finishes his plate, eyes the food still piled on the counter for a moment, then shrugs and makes himself another. Because, why not? There's some guilt at taking advantage of the women's kindness but beggars can't be choosers and he doesn't have much space in his mini-fridge anyway.

The rest of the meal passes easily enough, despite Sera poking and prodding him with words and bony fingers. Eventually she must decide he's alright because she turns the topic to how stupid her art teachers are, and Dorian, despite not taking art, can't help but agree. His own professors leave a lot to be desired about the state of Ferelden education.

A hug and a punch to the ribs is his goodbye from Sera; thankfully Taash settles for a handshake. Followed by instructions to ask Sera for her number if he needs anything, anything at all. Don't be a stranger.

The apartment is woefully silent when they leave, even with the delicious scents permeating the air. There's a tight feeling in his chest as he packs up what he can. Dorian's not sure how to describe it, it's like loneliness, despite how he just spent an hour with what he supposes are his friends. And before that there was Josie's kindness.

He glances at his phone and considers texting Felix. Another glance, to the clock this time, dissuades him from doing so. Felix is probably napping, he does get tired so easily now. Dorian has another thought about texting Bull, but he might be working...

What does Bull even do, anyway? There's so little he knows about him; only that he gardens, has 'boys' which may or may not be his children, and he's apparently been informally adopted into a Tal-Vashoth/Vashoth family (and no, Dorian still doesn't understand the difference despite Taash explaining it twice). 

Also that he's incredibly kind and can make friends with almost anyone he meets.

The vain hope that their dinner plans are a date dies in his chest. Sera, the Adaars, whatever those 'boys' are to him? Bull would have done what he did for Dorian for anyone. Dorian, despite what his parents and numerous instructors over the years have told him, is not special.

It hurts more than a silly, ill advised little crush really should.

~

Dorian spends a few more hours trying to reason with his university before giving it up as a lost cause. He has no friends there, and he doesn't need to be making enemies. Not after what happened yesterday. Something in him mourns the temper he'd had back in Tevinter, yearns for the way he only had to let his family name slip to get results.

But now? He has to shut up and take it, as much as it stings. The worst part is it barely even registers anymore. He's grown used to it. Not that Dorian will give up and roll over, but he's so very tired.

Tired enough that he only attempts job searching on his phone for a half hour before carefully setting it to the side, though every part of him wants to throw it at the wall in frustration. He settles for throwing one of Josephine's blighted horticulture books at the wall instead; right at the dent Sera made. The books haven't helped in the slightest.

It lands with a hard thud; the pages flopping open to a picture of a calla lily; pristine and white. Dorian glances up at his own plant. It looks nothing like the picture; with it's drooping, yellow leaves. Several petals have fallen off; littering his floor like some sort of macabre decoration. 

The flower makes him think of Bull, and his stupid, stupid crush. Dorian sighs to himself and rolls over on his bed for a nap. It's late in the day but his head won't shut up. Best to ignore it, and it's still a bit early for drinking. Not that that's stopped him in the past.

He doesn't fall asleep easy; and when he does, he tosses and turns. His dreams aren't pleasant ones. 

When Dorian wakes, the first thing he does is glare at the moon outside his window. Well, he certainly hadn't meant to sleep that long. He pulls himself out of bed with a groan, casts a look in the mirror to check his hair in the dim light from the stars, and slogs his way over to the counter. 

Dorian helps himself to more leftovers then he probably should. Free food comes so rarely and he needs to make it stretch; but the taste is so divine he can't fault himself for overindulging. The food isn't really like what he'd grown up on; nothing matching the private chef his parents had hired. 

Or indentured; Dorian's still unsure of the difference. He's spent enough time in Ferelden to learn not to speak of it however lest he have to sit through another rant about how terrible his home country is. Not that he doesn't disagree, but to hear people speak you'd think all they do is keep people in poverty and dance under the blood of their servants. Like here is any better.

Dorian breathes through his nose; once, twice. He takes a large bite of flatbread, the taste now heavy and choking in his throat. He is not crying, he is not. His vision blurs all the same.

Blasted food's gone and made him homesick is all. When just yesterday, or maybe it's the day before now, fuck if Dorian knows; he was fighting to stay in this stupid, dog worshiping country. He rubs at his eyes and shoves his plate to the side; it all tastes of sawdust now.

He makes his way back to his bed and crawls in, hands feeling around for his phone. Once it's in his grasp, he rolls over to face the wall; the screen illuminating the room.

There's a few messages from Felix; but they're all emoji's or smilies, so he scrolls past them. There's a longer message from Mae; which brings up feelings of shame in him from how much help he's had to accept from her, so he ignores that for now to.

His eyes sting again, and he rubs at them absentmindedly. This country will not beat him, though it seems determined to. His own father couldn't beat him, and really, compared to that? What's few fucking templars and lost jobs?

With that in mind that Dorian scrolls through his contacts until he finds Bull's name. Felix would be proud; he's listed with an emoji of a bulging bicep next to it. Dorian falters as he taps out a message; surely the man goes to bed early, what with how he thought nothing of waking Dorian up at dawn? 

No. He's going to do this.

'Good evening. Are you still up?' He hits send before he can chicken out, and takes a deep gulp of air to calm his nerves. Followed by another, and another. He considers digging in the mini-fridge for the cheap wine he bought last payday, but decides against it. He'd have to move.

The phone vibrates in his hands and Dorian looks down at Bull's reply. 

'Mmm. In bed, but that's fine. Can't sleep, big guy?'

'Not as such. I just woke up.'

'Wow. I figured you kept odd hours, but I didn't know they were that odd.' 

Dorian rolls his eyes at the words on screen, a flutter of annoyance in his chest. Like it's his fault that the rest of the world is so uncivilized as to commonly be up before noon. He's about to reply when another text comes through. 

'Hey, maybe I'm overstepping myself, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but are you alright? You kind of looked like shit after the cab dropped you off.' 

Another text follows, a few seconds later.

'I know how it goes, got to prove yourself to everyone and everything when you change countries. I've done it twice now.'

A few seconds after that, there's yet another text.

'You don't have to go out to dinner with me if you don't want to. I probably pressured you into it.'

Dorian's fingers fly as he types out a response before Bull can send any more.

'No! It's not like that at all. You were very kind. Maybe more then I deserve.' Perhaps he shouldn't have sent that, it comes across as a bit desperate, but it's too late now. Dorian sighs and rolls onto his other side, a migraine forming between his brows.

'}.('

'In case you didn't understand my personalized smilie: :(.'

'You have a personalized smilie?' Dorian chuckles to himself, and yes, now that he turns his phone to the side, he can see it. 'That's...so ridiculous it's almost charming.'

'},) Thanks.'

'For the record, I would like to go to dinner, very much so. It seems I've a lot of free time now.'

'Ah shit, they didn't do anything did they? Thought we took care of it yesterday. Need me to stop by the Templars again? I don't mind. I'm good at looking big and strong },).'

'You're good at looking ridiculous. But no, I don't think that will be needed. So, dinner? ...There's no real point in beating around the bush, I don't have a lot of money at present so it will have to be somewhere cheap.'

'Don't worry about it, I'll buy.'

Dorian sucks in a breath between his teeth, cursing himself for not going and getting that wine out of the mini-fridge. He desperately needs a drink or four.

'I would hate to put you out.'

'You're not. Like I said, don't get out of the house much. I'm a little sick of mac n cheese. 'Sides, you look like you could use a little spoiling. Good food, a handsome fella like yourself to look at? Shit, you'd be treating me just by showing up.'

Dorian feels his heart in his throat as he reads and rereads the words. He closes his eyes so he can lie to himself for a little longer that he's crying. The splatter of tears on the screen breaks the illusion, and he takes a shaky breath.

'I'd like that very much.' Dorian pauses in his typing to steady his hands; goes back and corrects the typos he's made. 'Am I correct in presuming this is a date then?'

'If you want it to be },D.'

'Yes. Yes I think I do.'

'}.DDD.'

Dorian laughs at the absurdity of the situation, and shakes his head. He rubs his thumb over the phones screen, wiping away spilled tears from its surface. Well. 

Just. Well.

'How about the night after tomorrow? I'll come get you, it'll be a surprise. A good one this time. No templars involved.'

'Thank you, Bull. I'll look forward to it. Now, I should probably let you sleep shouldn't I?'

'You sure you're okay?'

'I will be fine. Thank you. Goodnight.'

'Night Big Guy. Sleep well.'

'I wish you the same.' Dorian grins as he sends one final text. He feels much lighter then he did mere moments before. He pulls himself to his feet once again, and heads over to the counter to finish his meal.

Tonight; some light reading, a few glasses of wine to help him sleep. Tomorrow, job searching on his phone. Then the day after that, a date. An actual date. He tries to think of the last time he went on one and comes up empty. 

The closest thing he can think of is when Rilienus would slip him notes to meet for stolen kisses and hand-jobs after class. His time spent drunk in clubs isn't one he entirely regrets, it was his life to live how he pleases despite what his father thought. But it can't be denied his life has lacked in romance.

Well. This thing with Iron Bull might not go anywhere. The man might just want a fuck and that's it. Dorian won't get his hopes up too high. Still, he can't help but look forward to the coming days.

Nothing can keep a Pavus down, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is consistent chapter length? We just don't know. 
> 
> Hey there's an injury in this chapter if you're squeamish, nothing bad happens but I thought I'd let you guys know. Also, note the rating bump.

The day of Dorian's date begins with a rainstorm. Water cascades from the sky, lightning crackling across it to illuminate his room every few minutes. The clamor of thunder shakes his windows with such force he drags himself out of bed a good four hours before Bull's set to pick him up; when he really only needs two or so to prepare.

Dorian goes to stand in front of the window, eyes bleary and blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He scowls out at the sky, arms folded across his chest. The heavens appear to mock him, pouring down rain even harder then before.

Well, then. Tossing his blanket away from him with an annoyed huff, he heads towards his bathroom to take a shower. With any luck, it won't be the only one he needs today. 

Maybe that's wishful thinking, but oh well. Dorian's going to keep his hopes up, nervous though he might be. It has been a little while, after all. He's fairly sure he still remembers the how and all that, it's just...

Oh, how to say it? He might actually care if Bull thinks he's any good. 

Alright, he's getting ahead of himself. Time to focus on something else, like bathing. It's been far too long since he's had a chance to focus on making himself as handsome and magnificent as can be. Pity that, since it's one of his favorite things to do.

His mind wanders as water flows over his skin, the stall filling with steam. There's many things Dorian misses about home.

The subject of magic not being so forbidden for one. Fine wine and good food being another. But most of all, it's probably his legion of beauty products. He used to have rows and rows of every type in his possession; shampoos, conditioners, colognes, skin creams, all sorts of make up.

Now he's reduced to just one set of shampoo and conditioner, though he does think highly enough of himself to buy the best brand available. He spoils himself a little more with three different body washes he switches between; paining him though it does to buy the cheaper types.

There's only one cologne, and he's ashamed to admit he uses it quite sparingly. Tonight's as good a night as any though, so he grabs it with the rest of his make up, hair gel, and shaving cream from under the counter as he prepares his face.

Forty five minutes later he steps out into the main room of his apartment; mustache curled, hair styled, and smelling of citrus. He doesn't bother with a towel, he's too high up for anyone to see, and well. Dorian's proud of the way he looks, especially now.

That pride falls as he catches a glance of himself in the mirror. He's had to switch to inferior products, and maybe no one else can tell, but he certainly can. Mood dashed, he gets out his nicest shirt from one of the milk crates, fingers easing the wrinkles he finds.

He follows it with his second nicest shirt, then his third, setting both of them on the bed. There's only two pairs of pants that he can really call “nice” now, so choosing between them wont be as hard. He gets them out, setting them on the bed as well, and steps back to look.

A hand on his chin, he bites at a finger in thought, shaking his head. It's still not enough to go off of, so he turns and looks through his closet for a jacket or vest to complete the ensemble. Getting out four; he carefully lays them out on his desk.

It's yet another forty minutes before he's whittled his choices down to two. A pair of leather pants which lace up the front; tight as he could get of course; matched with a simple tunic and a few belts over his waist. For style.

His other choice is a skin tight tank top; a different pair of leather pants, side laced; completed by a vest with 'too many zippers' as Felix had put it when he'd sent a picture. Dorian figures red silk smalls for the first choice, navy lace ones for the second.

Now if he could only chose. 

He paces from one choice to the other, debating the merits of each. Finally it dawns on him what to do. Dressing in first one, then the second outfit; he stands in front of his mirror and takes pictures on his phone from several different angles. Front, back; but most importantly; he holds the phone out to get pictures of his profile and rear.

When finished, he sends them all out on his phone. Not to Felix, no. Dorian's only made the mistake of asking Felix for advice on fashion and hook ups once. His response had been a rather droll 'Dorian, I love you, but I never want to see your ass again.' 

He still sends Felix pictures of his clothes now and again, proud of every new purchase he's able to make. Felix is less enthused. 

No, he sends them to the one person he has left who he can talk fashion with. Dorian sits back on his bed as he eagerly awaits the response. It doesn't take long.

'Dorian, dear, is there a reason you've sent me ten selfies? And only three belts? Are we cutting down?' Mae's amusement is clear, even over text. Dorian rereads the lines a few times as he pictures her in his mind. She'll be sitting, legs crossed elegantly in front of her. Her hair will be tossed back and she'll tap her fingers to her cheek, studying him like he's a lost cause.

He supposes that next to her, he probably is. Still, one must always aim to improve oneself.

'I have a date tonight and I can't pick which outfit to wear. I don't admit this very often so cherish it like you should everything I say; I need help.'

'That, my dear, is certain. Hmm, let me think.' 

Dorian taps the phone impatiently as he waits for her to reply. He half suspects she's trying to annoy him when five minutes later she sends:

'How important is this date to you? Just out for a quick fuck or will you be dealing with him again? I will want details later irregardless, but I'll take pity on you for now.'

He's not sure what it means that he has to think on it for a few minutes, but he comes to his conclusion with a sigh and taps out on his phone. 'Fairly important. I'd like to see him again if this all goes well. My dating prospects here are rather dim I must admit. I could probably find another mage who'd be interested in me, but southern mages are all so flighty. So if you'd please.'

'The first set; with the belts. The second is lovely dear, but you look too desperate. I know you want fucked, but you might scare him off.'

'I'll never get a chance to wear that vest at this rate.' Dorian wonders if he's been texting too much lately. He actually contemplated tacking on one of Felix's dreaded smilies to the end of it. 

'Have you ever considered maybe that's a good thing?'

'Mae, you wound me.'

'Dorian, dear, you would know if I wounded you. I dare say you'd never get up from the blow. Now, I was in the middle of something, so if we're done?'

Dorian smiles down at his phone, releasing a sigh he hadn't known he'd been holding in. Mae was right of course; the side laced pants and zippered vest is more for a night out clubbing than a date. Though he hopes the result will be the same. 

At least, he thinks he does. 

Bull has gotten into a rather infuriating habit of confusing him. Hardly fair, since they've only known each other what, a week? More like two days, if one counts how often they've talked. A month of admiring him from the window before that.

...Yes, perhaps Dorian is a little desperate.

'That's all I need. Thank you, Mae.'

'Kisses. And remember; details.'

'I'll see what I can do.' Laughing, he scrolls out of his messages and hooks his phone up to charge. 

He's mostly sure Bull doesn't intend to kidnap him and sell him back to his father, but just in case. Experience has shown him he cannot be too careful.

~

The next hour and a half is curious, in that it passes by simultaneously too fast and too slow. Dorian almost suspects time magic, if not for the fact all research into it shows it's far too dangerous to attempt. Also the universe probably doesn't hate him that much, to have him be a victim of both blood and time magic.

Then his alarm goes off, signaling Bull will be by to pick him up and Dorian wishes he had more time. He scrambles into his bathroom once more, digs under the counter until he finds what he's looking for. Breathing deep to settle his nerves, he pulls a few condoms from the pack, as well as a few disposable packets of lube.

He tucks them into his wallet, only mourning the lack of money inside for a moment. The condoms are all his size; Dorian wasn't about to guess at the length or girth of Bull's member. Well, at least not beyond a few masturbatory fantasies. Bull will be on his own in that regards, though there's always things they can do clothed if he isn't.

It's then Dorian tells himself he won't be disappointed if Bull doesn't want to fuck. Following that, he reminds himself he's not even sure he wants sex.

Or rather, if he wants just sex. Damn that Bull.

Oh, if Felix and Mae could see him now. Nervous to fuck, nervous to not fuck. Just plain nervous in general.

More breathing, until his heart stops racing. He double checks that his wallet in zipped shut and places it in his back pocket. It barely fits, the pants one size too small for him, and thus, perfect.

His phone he slides into his other pocket, and he scrambles to the counter, climbing a top it to look out. He can't see Bull, but that doesn't mean he isn't on his way. Dorian shoves his disappointment down, restrains himself from rubbing at his eyes, and achingly wishes he hadn't had to sell all his jewelry awhile ago, he needs something to fiddle with.

It's while he's longingly looking at his fingers, wishing he had just one or two rings he could turn to calm his nerves, that Bull knocks on the door.

Dorian, to his shame, startles at the sound. He slips and lands on his chin with a resounding crack; tongue in between his teeth. He spits and there's blood, a lot of it. 

Well that's just perfect.

“Dorian?” Bull's voice is muffled by the door. “Heard a crash, you alright?” 

“Im fib- I'm volg-” Dorian spits into his hand, glares at the blood covering it. The annoying thing is it barely even hurts; a dull throb compared to spiking pain radiating from his chin.

“Dorian, I'm gonna let myself in.” Bull gives him a moment to object before opening the door. His eye goes wide at what he sees.

“Ulloh.” Dorian sighs, and spits again, pulling himself up from the floor with his clean hand. He knows from experience how hard blood stains are to get out and he's not about to curse himself with that fate, although it's already a lost cause. Another mouthful of blood later and he feels like maybe he can talk. “Ah, excuse me. Hello, Bull. Wonderful weather we're having, isn't it?”

Lightning cracks outside the window when he finishes speaking. Dorian turns to glare at it. He may like being dramatic, but its help is not appreciated. 

He steals a glance of Bull out the corner of his eye and chokes. Wonder of wonders, the man actually does own non-ludicrous clothing. His jeans aren't form fitting but they're nice enough; with nary a tear or patch on them. A clean pressed, buttoned down shirt graces Bull's chest, with the top three buttons open, giving Dorian a wonderful view. 

The image is slightly ruined by the umbrella tucked in Bull's belt; bright pink and decorated with winged nugs. Dragon-winged though they might be. Dorian's beginning to wonder about the dragons, really.

Bull's in front of him before he can finish contemplating the mans shoes; probably custom made, they'd have to be, size of his feet. 

“Let me see.” Bull reaches out slowly, takes a hold of his chin. Dorian finds his skin warming up without his say so.

“I'm alright. Just slipped off the bloody counter, like a child.” There's a metallic taste in his mouth, sliding back his throat as his tongue throbs. Dorian wishes it would chose which direction it wants to go; some of it's dripping past his lips to ruin his goatee. After all the work he's put into it.

“Mmm. Seen too many people choke on their own blood to chance it. Open up, Big Guy.” Bull makes it a request, if a firm one, and Dorian finds himself agreeing.

What a wonderful start to a date, if he does say so himself. His clothes are spattered with blood, his hands are coated in it, and he can't even charm Bull. What with the way he's tilting Dorian's head down, a handkerchief conjured from his pockets stuffed against Dorian's tongue.

It's nice to have two of Bull's fingers in his mouth, but this is not the way he had pictured it happening.

“I'm just keeping pressure on your tongue. It's probably nothing, but like I said.” Bull shrugs, shuddering. Dorian wishes he could see the look in his eye. Something about his voice concerns him. “Can never be too careful.”

Dorian hums in reply, since he can do little else.

~

They start dinner in reverse, on account of Dorian's tongue. Bull stands in line at the ice cream shop while Dorian sits, on Bull's insistence. He finds himself wondering if there will be a flood, or a fire, or some other natural disaster.

You know, something to top the pouring rain and injury. 

“Alright there, Dorian?” Bull brings back two cones; three scoops for himself, one for Dorian. Though he'd offered Dorian whatever he would like. 

“Mortified, if you must know. But other then that, I'm spectacular.” He reaches out to take his cone; a simple vanilla flavor. Despite how tasty the spiced rum had looked, he dares not risk the pain that would follow. 

“Ah. I've seen worse. One time, I hooked up with a girl who came straight to the bar from roller derby practice. People thought I'd beaten her when we left. Got stopped by the cops and everything.” Bull's tongue wraps around his ice cream; slow and sensual and completely unfair. Not even the addition of pink sprinkles is enough to stop Dorian from staring.

Bull winks at him, catching Dorian in the act. He coughs and looks away, starting on his own cone to distract himself.

At least it numbs his tongue, if not his embarrassment.

“You're... remarkably calm for what you just said.” The vanilla isn't bad, but Dorian wishes he'd gone with his first choice, damn the consequences.

“Eh.” Bull shrugs. “It's not so bad here. Now when I was back in Orlais, ha! People didn't even try to keep 'Ox' or 'Beast' hidden. I mean, people still think it here.” Bull starts on his cone, chewing it down in two bites. “But there's enough Vashoth around that it's a little harder for them to be bigoted.”

“That, and I'm nice.” Bull grins at him with all his teeth, winking again. Dorian wants to groan but finds himself stifling a chuckle instead.

“I admire your outlook.” He looks down at his cone. Suddenly he doesn't even want to finish it, heavy thoughts turning his stomach. He passes the cone over to Bull, who takes it with a worried frown.

“Hey. I haven't always been like this. Had to change countries twice, remember?” Bull watches Dorian. taking a few licks of ice cream before going on. “I didn't do so well until I got a wealthy client. It was her who suggested I move here, in fact.”

“You know you never said what it is you do.” Dorian tries to hide his gratitude at the change in subject. The rain may be setting a dreary mood, but he has no wish for a gloomy night.

“Personal Trainer.” Bull flexes an arm with a grin.

Dorian looks down at his pudge, a brow arching.

“Hey. That's mean.” Bull pouts, then positively sulks when Dorian laughs. He joins in after a minute though, clapping before finishing the cone in one bite. “No, but really. Sure, I'm heavier then I used to be. But I'm damn strong, and well worth the money.”

“Pardon me if I don't hire you.” Dorian chuckles, shaking his head.

“Your loss. Anyway, it's not so much about me, but about them.” Bull keeps on smiling as he leans back in his chair. His foot touches Dorian's, and he doesn't move it away. 

They engage in a game of footsie while Bull talks about the various routines he sets up for his clients. Weight lifting for some, a regimen of running for other. Dorian doesn't really follow, too busy stroking Bull's leg with one of his feet.

That is, until he mentions the name of the wealthy client who suggested he relocate to Ferelden.

“Wait. Did you say Madame Vivienne de Fer?” He leans forward, letting his foot slide higher until it's almost in Bull's lap. “As in the Grand Enchanter to the court of Orlais?”

“Yup! That'd be Ma'am.” Bull doesn't give him any clue as to how his foots affecting him. Not even when Dorian slides it along a growing bulge in his pants. 

“What does she need a personal trainer for?”

“Hey now. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be in shape, and Ma'am sends a lot of clients my way.” Bull frowns at him, cocks his head to the side. “She's done a lot for me.”

“I apologize. I didn't mean any offense.” Ugh, he's as bad as Josephine. Always eager to gossip. Wouldn't she laugh if she could see him now?

“None taken.” That's clearly a lie but Dorian doesn't call him on it. “You want to get out of here, have some real food? If you feel up to it. Can always take a rain check. Won't hold it against you if you do.” Bull grins and tosses his head towards the window.

“Get it? Eh, eh?”

“You're impossible.”

Dorian finds himself utterly charmed. What a turnabout from the norm.

~

It is to his great dismay Dorian has to turn down the first restaurant Bull suggests, as well as the second, and the third. The first is the Tevinter place Sera and Taash had brought him food from a few days ago, and while he'd gladly gorge himself more, spices in an open cut do not sound fun.

The second and third? Well. He's been fired from both of them, the latter twice now. He explains as much to Bull when they settle on a quaint little place serving typical Ferelden foods.

At least the ale will be good; if the stew heavy.

“Twice huh?” Bull has to push the table to the side to slide into the booth, and he grins sheepishly at Dorian as he pushes his way into the other side. 

“Neither of them were my fault.” He raises his nose in the air with a tsk. “The first time was because of a manager who didn't understand the words 'Not Interested', or the monosyllable 'No'. After she was replaced, well. Let's just say the new manager didn't appreciate my many talents.” 

He will never understand this country's aversion to magic. The cook had forgotten to pull out the meat from the freezer the night before, and really Dorian had been helping by setting it aflame. No gratitude, none at all.

Bull just chuckles as he orders for them both; soup and a half sandwich for Dorian, a hefty burger and fries for Bull. Hardly the finest of dinner fares, but Dorian can only blame himself and his blighted tongue for that.

“So.” Bull leans on one of his hands, angling his head so he can look at Dorian. “You know all about my job, what's yours?”

“Ah....” Dorian winces. He'd just finished telling the man he's been fired three times, he doesn't want to mention he's been fired twice more. And that isn't even all the times he's been laid off. “Presently? I hold down a few shifts at a local book store. I'd tell you the name but Josephine has forbidden me from inviting anyone else there.”

“Lemme guess. Sera?”

“...Yes.”

“She has that effect on people.” Bull chuckles, eye crinkling fondly. “Believe it or not, she's really calmed down in the past year.” 

“Because of her 'Woof' I presume?”

“Oh, you've met her?”

“She and Sera descended on my apartment the other day, yes.” He rolls his eyes. He'll admit a fondness for the imp and Taash was nice enough, but he didn't come here to discuss either of them.

“They're good kids.”

Their server comes with the drinks, breaking the flow of conversation. Ale for Dorian, something sugary and pink for Bull. It's topped with whipped cream and even more pink sprinkles. 

Dorian's beginning to notice a pattern; dragons and all things pink. Hmm.

They drink in silence for a few minutes, Dorian pretending he doesn't enjoy the taste while Bull makes loud, appreciative moans.

“But what is it you'd like to do?” Bull asks him after Dorian sets down his mug. 

“I'm trying to get my main course work done now.”

“Yeah, but,” Bull rolls his shoulders. “What is it you'd _like_ do? What was your dream, before you came here and had to start over?”

Dorian notes then that Bull has yet to ask him why he's in Ferelden. He appreciates it more then he'd thought he would.

“Well...truthfully?” Dorian sighs, downing the rest of his mug. He'll be a bit tipsy but there's no way he wants to have this conversation sober. “I wanted to be a scholar. Maybe teach if I had to, I did some TA work back in Tevinter, but mostly I wanted to spend my life in the pursuit of knowledge.” 

“Teach, huh?” Bull's studying him with a look in his eye Dorian can't read. “What subjects? You any good? Ever worked with kids?”

“What a question...Well, no. I've never worked with children. I did find myself assigned to tutor some underclassmen once, so as not to be expelled from the circle.” Dorian grins at the memory. Ah, when they'd thought simple punishment would be enough to curb his temper. “I still was, but I suppose a few of them were alright. When they didn't cower in fear of me. Although they were wise to.”

“So you were a bad boy?” Bull chuckles. 

“Very much so. Are you surprised?” 

“Well...” Bull lets his eye rove over Dorian's clothes. He'd had to change into his second choice after the first outfit had been covered in blood. They'd left it soaking in hydrogen peroxide in the sink, which Bull assured him would work fine. Dorian will believe it when he sees it.

“Oh, hush.” Dorian reaches out to swipe some of the whipped topping from Bull's drink in retaliation, which only gets him a smile from Bull. “To answer the second part of your question, I'm interested in a variety of subjects. The two most important would probably be history and magic, but I've a friend who insisted I look into mathematics so I'm proficient in that as well.”

He rolls his eyes in memory of the way Felix had nearly bullied him into the subject. But he can't deny it hasn't come in handy now that he actually has to budget.

“Ever think of doing it again?” Bull shrugs. “Tutoring, I mean.”

“I...no, not really.” Dorian arches a brow, suspicious. “Why do you ask?”

“Look... my first year in Orlais? I went from job to job. It's only because of Ma'am I pursued a career as a personal trainer. Met her while she was out running and corrected her form.” Bull sighs, glancing towards the kitchen like he wishes the food would get here faster. Dorian finds himself agreeing. “When something...happened, she helped me out of the country and into Ferelden.”

Bull grins, his eye sad. “I'm guessing refugees from the Qun aren't that different from refugees from Tevinter, but I didn't have the added shit of being a mage on top of all that. I'm just saying, maybe it's time to look into something else. I wanted to be a cop at first, or a soldier, it's all I knew how to do.”

“But Ma'am... and Cullen, shit even Cassandra talked me out of it. I'm glad they did. Never would've met my boys otherwise, and fuck, I like it. I'm helping people at their own pace, it pays well, and my kids aren't in danger. Can't ask for much more.”

Dorian's not sure what to say to that, and he thanks Andraste that their food arrives so he doesn't have to talk at all. 

Bull lets him eat in silence for awhile, the mood ruined. But once Dorian's finished with his soup and starting on his sandwich, he speaks.

“And I was just thinking. You could get certified, or paid under the table, and well....” Bull stretches his arms over his head. “I might know of someone who needs a magic tutor.”

“Really?” Dorian smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “So that wasn't entirely altruistic, then?”

“Nah. They're all married; three lovelier ladies you'll never meet. I think you'd like Isabela and Merrill, not sure you'd get along with Hawke. She's a bit...” Bull shrugs. “They adopted a kid recently, and turns out she's a mage. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, 'cause both Hawke and Merrill are mages to, but.”

Bull winces and sighs, shoving the last half of his burger into his mouth to avoid finishing his sentence. Dorian waits with a glare on his face, not entirely sure he likes where this is going. It's not a terrible idea, and from what he understands of this country, children don't have to live in the circle. Unless they're abandoned by their parents.

But they do need to pass tests a few times a year, and templars come to check on them frequently. Ferelden is such a backwards place...

“Merrill's an elf, Hawke's got a record, and so does Isabela. And, well.” Bull taps his fingers on the table to stall for time, til he finally admits it. “They're both suspected blood mages, so it was a hassle helping them adopt Dalish, their daughter. They just got her, and don't want to lose her, so I bet they'd be willing to work with someone. Especially if Cassandra vouched for that person.”

“....I doubt a Tevinter Necromancer will be seen as much better, and Cassandra despises me. Even if I agreed to tutor, which I'm not sure I want to do. Then there's the fact of the matter that my fath- that I find myself unable to prove I graduated from Minrathous, or my previous university.” Dorian can feel himself paling, but forces himself to choke down the rest of his sandwich. Everything in him wants to say no. 

Blood magic? Children? Tutoring? Bull must be mad.

“'Bela might be able to help with that. I've got it on good account she's not as much a 'reformed' thief as she swears.” Bull munches on his fries before continuing on “And one of my boys isn't doing so hot in history. So that's two potential clients. Think about it?”

Dorian bites his lip. He could really use the money, and if there's a chance he could get even some of his documentation from Tevinter, it might be worth it. A rational part of his mind interjects that if they're unwilling to send their child to a circle, they might not be as hung up on magic as the rest of the country.

He misses that.

“Alright. I will.”

The rest of the meal passes quietly, and Dorian wonders if this date has been a total loss. It's such a shame... He'd rather thought he had a chance with Bull. Not that he'd been hoping for much, and Bull has already done a lot. So he figures he may as well ask the question that's been plaguing him for awhile now.

If nothing else, he'll satisfy his curiosity. 

“Bull...” He begins, fiddling with the crumbs on his plant so he doesn't have to look the man in the eye. “When you say 'your boys'...what do you mean? You're not married, are you?” Dorian doesn't see a ring and he's never noticed someone else out in the garden with the man, but. Oh.

It used to be Dorian didn't care. He finds it odd that he does now. Maybe it's because he's no longer in Tevinter, or maybe it's because Bull's too good to be true. He doesn't want reality to come crashing down on him now.

“They're my boys. My kids. My family. That a problem?” Bull's voice turns hard, with an edge to it Dorian doesn't want to touch. “And no, I'm not married. Never been. They're adopted. I'd adopt more if I could.”

“...I'm sorry.” Dorian sighs, and reaches out to take one of Bull's hands with both of his own. He squeezes it as he searches for what to say. “I just. I've had too many married men think I was fine, so long as it was only sex. So long as I never got to know them.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “And I've had enough people say that's what I should do to.... I don't know kids. I don't know what I want from you... I like you. I've had fun. Please don't be angry.”

Bull places his other hand on top of both of Dorian's, a sad look in his face.

“Shit, kid. I don't know what I'm doing either.”

“Well. Aren't we a pair then?” Dorian chuckles, and Bull joins him.

“Yeah. Guess we are...”

~

Dorian probably would've left it at that, unsure and uncertain as they both were. But then Bull remembered why he'd asked him out in the first place. 

Which brings him to now, with Bull fussing over the plant he'd given him last week. He keeps making a high pitched, distressed noise as he turns the pot this way and that.

As if Dorian didn't already feel guilty.

“So... How badly have I killed the plant?” Dorian sighs, tapping his finger against his cheek. And here he'd thought Bull and him had maybe reached an understanding. Now he's gone and ruined it, same as he ruined Bull's gift.

“Well...See this?” Bull hisses between his teeth, poking a finger into the soil. It goes down, and down, and down. “You've really over watered her. I'm betting she has bulb rot. ...I'd really like to take her home with me, transplant her to a new pot, sterilize this one...and bring her back, if you'd let me?”

“You'd still trust me with...'her' after all this?” 

“Well, yeah.” Bull grins down at him, pulling his finger out of the pot and cleaning it on his pants. “You know it means beauty in the language of flowers, right? As well as new beginnings.” He reaches back to rub behind his ears, expression sheepish. “Usually used for weddings. I figured... person as beautiful as you, brand new start. Why not?”

Dorian's breath catches in his throat and he has to swallow thickly. He turns away until he gathers himself enough to speak.

“I think...I would very much like to kiss you.” Dorian turns back to him, reaches up to grip Bull's shoulders, tugs him down so he can breathe into his ear “As well as suck your cock, if you'd let me.”

“Shit. Yeah – Wait....not with that cut on your tongue.”

“Ah, there is that.” Dorian knew he'd been forgetting something. “Well, maybe I could whoooa!” 

He doesn't finish his sentence, for Bull lifts him up in his arms and sets him on the counter. He grins at him as he feels in Dorian's pockets til he finds his wallet and pulls ir out. Bull opens it with a wink, taking out a condom, followed by the packets of lube. He'd probably noticed them when Dorian had to change and didn't say anything. The bastard.

“What if I blow you instead?” Bull leans forward, crowding him in against the wall as he sucks hickeys into Dorian's neck. 

The utter, utter bastard.

“Well...who am I to refuse?” 

Dorian's fairly sure some laces are torn out when his pants end up thrown in the direction of his bed, but he's too eager to give a fuck. His top follows shortly after, but his smalls? Bull takes his time with those, wrapping his hand over Dorian's cloth covered length until Dorian grips at his shoulders, nails digging in.

Growling low with appreciation, Bull tears the package between his teeth, holds it with two fingers as he slips it over Dorian's cock with a firm stroke. He eases his hand up and down, making Dorian shiver with want. He's been half hard on and off through the date, but Bull's rough hands, even through the latex, have him fighting not to cum already.

“I do still want to suck you off... ha... Can I take a rain check on that?” It's getting hard to breathe, and he's so close to saying damn the risk, and kissing Bull open mouthed. His lips twitch and he has to bite them to keep the impulse down.

“You got it, Big Guy.” 

Bull grins back at him, then looks around Dorian's room until he spies a pillow, which he reaches for. “Mind if I use this? Bad knee.”

“Of course.” Dorian pants, laying back naked against his wall. The counter has always been his favorite spot to sit, but now that's going to be especially so. “How does one get a bad knee at what, 35?”

“Aw, you sap. I'm 38, and bad injuries happen sooner then you'd think.” Bull kneels, putting the pillow under him. His eye is half lidded as he reaches forward to tug Dorian close by his hips. “Hey, so...the lube....can I finger you to? 'Sfine if you're not into that. But damn, this ass.” 

Bull squeezes a cheek as if to prove his point, and Dorian moans, throwing his head back. It's been too long, much too long.

“Please do.” Dorian's eyes slip closed without his say so. 

He hears the sound of another package being torn open, and feels a callused finger rub over his hole, slick with lube. 

Bull's face is stubbly, scratching against Dorian's stomach as he nuzzles him, breath hot. Dorian reaches out without thinking to grip his horns and gets a pleased little grumble in reply. So he rubs his fingertips over the grooved surface, all while Bull opens his mouth and swallows him down.

It's muted with the condom on of course, but it's still so good, hot like a furnace, and sucking hard and fast.

“Bull, I'll -” He's not going to last long if this keeps up.

Bull hums in answer, tongue wrapping around his length as he bobs his head up and down. His finger presses in slowly, carefully. Testing, the stretch exquisite. Dorian squirms, wanting more.

He rubs at Bulls horns to avoid thinking about anything but the feel of Bull sucking him down. A large, callused hand squeezes his ass, helping to spread his hole as he's slowly fingered, a counter to how hard he's being blown.

It's hard to know which to focus on, the intense pleasure and pressure building in his balls, or the slight ache and stretch of his hole. Dorian gasps, bucking a little as Bull finds his prostate and presses down, then again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck he wants, he wants so badly to cum. Bull seems to know, from the way he's slid his hand up from Dorian's ass to stroke his back.

Dorian takes that as a sign, and lets go. He screams as he cums, hands curling tight around Bulls horns. His eyes are closed but he still sees white, it's so good. He's been dreaming of this but the reality is so much better then he could've hoped for.

Everything is hazy, wonderful, and he vaguely feels Bull pull off him....

...and wakes to a kiss on his brow.

“Muh?” Dorian blinks, wondering when he got into bed. He certainly doesn't remember climbing in, and he's never done more then toss his blanket over his head when he sleeps. So why is it tucked around him, and whose fingers are stroking his hair?

“Hey.” Bull. Oh. _Oh..._

“Mmmm... I... kaffas...” Dorian starts to get out of bed, but Bull pushes him gently back down.

“Been awhile, huh?” Bull chuckles, softly. “Don't worry about it. Rain check, right?” He keeps stroking Dorian's hair, and oh, that's nice. He seems to know exactly where to dig in his fingers. 

Dorian has a fleeting thought that he could cum again, just from this.

“But you didn't...” Ugh, it's hard to think. Dorian would never let it be said he's a bad partner in bed, even though he will admit he's a little selfish. Alright, very selfish at times. But he's not uncaring either, and anyone who's worth it always has a good time.

Bull's worth it. He's so, so worth it. It almost scares Dorian how worth it he is.

“Don't worry about it.” Bull kisses his hair once more, then pulls himself to his feet with an audible grunt. “Getting to see you like that? All starry eyed and shit? More then enough for me.” He makes his way over to Dorian's counter, and Dorian can tell he's cleaned up some.

His formerly bloody clothes are hanging to dry off his desk chair, and the counter shines like it's been scrubbed down. He doesn't see the used condom or lube anywhere. 

Bull reaches out to take the plant, and heads towards the door.

“Night, Dorian. …think about what I said, alright? And don't worry, I'll get her back to you. Safe and sound.”

“Goodnight, Iron Bull. Sleep well...” Dorian waits until Bull closes the door behind him to snuggle up to his pillow. “Mmm... rain check.”

...Dorian can't believe it, but he actually wants the lily back. She has meaning, now. Beauty and new beginnings, hmm? Hopefully it's true.

That, and well. He has a check he's looking forward to cashing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go up yesterday but I had a family emergency. Literally. Spent the day in the ER.
> 
> I'm caretaking a relative right now, hence why I'm getting a lot of writing done, but I dunno if there'll be another chapter this week. I'll try, but no promises. Things have kind of gone to shit.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention my read-through person Star came up with Sera's nickname of Bow Wow Woof Woof. She's awesome and I love her.
> 
> One more thing, I've got a rough idea of how the rest of this fic will go, but if Dorian should become a tutor, would you want to see a chapter with him and Dalish (and the Hawkes)? There probably wouldn't be a lot of Bull in that chapter if I did it.
> 
> As always, you're all wonderful. ...And if I missed your comment I'm sorry, AO3 was weird last week.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. 
> 
> As always, thank you Star.
> 
> Small mention of an accident but it's pretty vague.

Dorian wakes slowly the next morning, with a gentleness he's unaccustomed to. The fade was kind to him for once, neither desire demons tempting him nor fear demons taunting him. He pulls himself out from under the covers, and feels for the phone to check the time.

Huh. He's even awake before his alarm. 

There's class in three hours, so much as he'd like to stay in bed and relive last nights memories, he eases his way into his morning routine. Only it's not as hectic or frantic as usual, plenty of time to prepare.

Huh. Just, huh. 

As he sits on the counter, looking out at the garden below, he reflects on last night. Bull's out there, with his boys; and Dorian studies them now. They're harder to make out then the large bulk of qunari; but he can count three.

Bull had talked about helping others adopt children last night, so perhaps that's why the number fluctuates. But there have always been at least three of them, if they're out in the garden. On hotter days, Dorian can remember seeing just Bull working, while he assumes the 'boys' were inside.

Or playing in the sprinkler system and slides Bull has set out, as they are now. 

He's had sex with men who have children before, more then once in fact. But he's never... dated one before, let alone a single dad. This isn't counting on how he's never really dated, either, but... 

Dorian won't lie to himself; the dinner wasn't anything special. The date was ruined by the rain, and he's a little annoyed at how bright and sunny it is today, as if to mock him. His tongue still hurts and he's not sure he can cover up the bruises on his jaw from falling. 

And yet...

He lies back on the counter, unmindful if his clothes get wrinkled for once, because his blighted professors don't deserve to see him at his best, anyway. Dorian feels lost and unsure. Normally, it's just sex, and that's fine. He's always wanted more, yes, but he never thought he could have it.

It was enough to dream for a time of simply not having to pretend. He'd be alone, but at least he wouldn't be living a lie. And now?

Dorian bites his lip, wondering why he's so tempted to head down there, and introduce himself to Bull's kids. To thank him for a wonderful night. To ask if he'd like to go out again. To look at the flowers closer, examine that silly statue Sera made. To see how what else blooms, and what meanings they hold.

His window feels empty without the lily gracing it. Lonely, almost. He wishes Bull hadn't cleaned up the shed petals, kind as that may have been. If only so he had some proof it was real.

Well, beyond the pleasant ache in his ass and the weightless feeling in his veins. Dorian grins and laughs at himself. Ah, sex usually doesn't leave him so stupid the morning after. He can't find it in himself to care.

Not when the alternative was fear, back in the early days. Or shame, once he realized why people were looking at him with disgust in their eyes. Anger came next, and a refusal to be afraid or ashamed anymore. 

But that didn't stop people from judging him, like Dorian was the problem in Tevinter, and not the rampant corruption and centuries old politics. 

He still misses home, but finds it bittersweet now. Turning his head to the side, he's just able to look out the window from this position. He kicks his feet out as he watches Bull and his children head inside. Ah, well. So much for that idea.

Pulling himself up, he slides off the counter, wincing a little as his rump hits the side on the way down. Bull hadn't been rough, in fact he'd been exceedingly gentle, but it had been a long, long time since Dorian's last romp. He finds himself smiling at the break in abstinence. 

Then lets out a long, shuddering sigh. He has absolutely no idea what to do about Bull, has no experience wanting to see someone again outside of a bar or a dimly lit club, let alone how to talk to children. 

And it's clear by now that Bull and his children? Are so very intertwined, so Dorian will need to learn. Maybe Josephine will let him skim the books at work when his impromptu vacation is over.

Surprisingly, that part doesn't bother him as much as he'd thought it would. Bull had been upfront as well as honest about their place in his life, and so long as Dorian isn't expected to be a second parent, he thinks maybe he'll be able to handle it. 

Either way, he wants to try. Try _something_ with Iron Bull. 

And isn't that terrifying?

So he falls back on old habits. No, Dorian doesn't pull what remains of his wine from the mini-fridge. No, he doesn't head out for a night of anonymous fucking. No, he doesn't go back to bed and pretend like his problems don't exist for a few more hours.

Instead he pulls out his phone, checks the time in Tevinter, then worriedly types out a message to Felix.

'Felix, I need your help. I think I'm in love.' 

'That's nice Dorian. I was asleep z_z.'

'I'm being serious, and isn't it early evening there?' Dorian frowns, worrying that Felix might have gotten sick again. He's always had a poor immune system, and ever since the accident, things have only been worse. 

...He's almost lost him, time and time again. It's not something Dorian wishes to repeat any time soon, especially with how he's not even on the same continent anymore. 

'I can hear you fretting from here, so stop it. I already have father to deal with. I don't need you worrying about me as well.' 

'Right. My apologies.' Dorian winces at the reminder of his former mentor. They hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms. Not that Dorian can blame Alexius for being more concerned about his son rather than Dorian's panicked flight from his homeland, but... he does miss him still. He'll never hate Felix for having him as a parent, but sometimes he does find himself in envy.

'Sorry, Dorian, I'm just a little tired. Now, what's this about love?'

'You remember how I told you about my neighbor?'

'...The female elf? Dorian. No :I.'

'Put that away. Have you ever known me to try and fool myself into being anything but what I am?' Dorian sighs and hits send, then starts on another message. 'No. I meant the other neighbor I told you about, with the garden. Left me a flower. Ringing any bells?'

'So ask him out.'

'Wait... How long has it been since we talked?'

'Too long :(. That's why I kept spamming you with smilies. Btw - ;D :) :B'

'Oh dear. Well, to summarize: I narrowly avoided being deported because of his help, he asked me to dinner, I accepted, I'm amazingly bad at balance and fell off a counter injuring myself, Shut up, We had dinner, We had sex, and Felix he's nothing like what I go for but he's – Felix help.'

He sighs and lays back his head, shaking it slightly. Maybe he's said too much, and it's a lot to dump on his old friend, but he's at a loss. More then that, Dorian finds himself terrified, now that the bliss of last night has settled into cold hard reality.

However? The phone ringing as it plays Felix's ringtone in his hand is the last thing he expects to happen. Dorian stares at it, dumbfounded. But sense soon finds him and he presses accept.

“What in Thedas are you doing calling me?”

“Dorian, if you're fretting about the bill, may I remind you that _I pay it_ , so if I want to rack up charges, I will?” Felix sounds beyond tired, pausing every few words to gather his breath, but there's no scratchiness to his voice. He wasn't lying about not being ill. “All I ask in return is you keep in contact with me. Now, tell me everything. What's all this about being deported?”

“That... may have been a slight exaggeration...” Dorian sighs, and begins to impart what's happened in the past few days. The Templars. His unknown bigot professor. Losing two jobs. His injury, though he stresses that Felix needn't worry. His tongues near healed and his chin will be fine with some ice.

It all seems rather glum now that he thinks about it, so he's sure to mention Sera and her Woof, followed Josephine's kindness. It might be backfiring, as he can hear Felix hissing as he calculates the lost income. Then he tells him of the date, and what followed.

Well, some of what followed. Felix is like a brother to him, and has never shown scorn for Dorian preferring men, it's just he has no wish to hear of it. Dorian can't blame him, as he has no desire to hear about Felix's romps either.

Or at least he used to not. It's been years since his friend dated, and now Dorian thinks he'd listen with apt attention if Felix told him of only a kiss.

Felix is quiet for some time after Dorian finishes. He begins to worry his friend has fallen asleep, until he hears a deep breath over the line.

“Well. First of all, I think you should take him up on the offer. Be careful, and if you like it be sure you find out if you need qualifications in your area. I don't want you in trouble again.” Felix lets out a laugh, if a breathless one. “You'll like it. You love telling people what to do.”

“Yes, but... children?”

“Please Dorian. Give it a try. Do you really want to spend another decade relearning everything you already know?”

“Well... when you put it that way.” Dorian sighs, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. Trust Felix to have the sensible view on it. It's not like there's much call for magical careers in Ferelden, not like back home. At least this way he'd still have one.

“And as for Iron Bull... Dorian. You sounded so happy when you talked about him. See him again, and go from there. But!” Felix pauses for breath, practically gasping now. Dorian almost regrets not insisting they go back to text, if only for how good it feels to hear his voice again. “If you get serious, I want you to get him to video chat with me, alright?”

“...What's a 'video chat'?”

“Dorian. I swear to the Maker and Andraste, how in Thedas have you had that phone for over a year and barely learned how to use it?”

~

Class passes by easily enough, and for once Dorian doesn't raise his hand to correct any of his professors. Sorely tempted though he may be. It's dark when leaves the campus, and he sighs as he carefully counts out bus fare before climbing onto the last one leaving campus for the night.

At least he managed to catch it. Dorian's only had to walk home once so far and it's not an experience he'll forget any time soon. He vowed to take a taxi if he missed the bus again, and damn the blow to his budget. 

It would be preferable to the days of sore feet and blisters, not to mention ruined shoes. Still, as he sits back in the seat closest to the door, he has to admit: Felix is right. Beggars can't be choosers. The next time he sees Bull, he'll ask him about his blood mage friends.

Dorian shivers at the thought, then reminds himself: They're friends of Bull. They can't be all that bad, though obviously easily swayed by power. 

After all, he used to think his father was a good man, too. Maybe he'll luck out, and the blood magic will be their shortcomings, and not the other way around.

Perhaps that isn't fair, but Dorian can't find it in himself to be sympathetic. At least, not now. Not when his jaw throbs in pain and another of the passengers starts coughing. With his luck, he'll catch whatever they have.

The rest of the ride passes in silent reflection, and on his walk home from the bus stop he considers stopping by Bull's, but it's late. So he turns to enter his building instead.

Sera waves at him as they pass in the hall, holds out her hand for a high five which he reluctantly gives, but they don't stop to chat. He's too tired, and she's outfitted in what he can only assume passes for party going clothes around here.

Or at least, in Sera's fashion sense. They're red and covered in holes, but nicer than her usual outfits; with no paint or charcoal stains gracing them. 

“Have fun! Steal all the punch!” Dorian calls after her just the same, shaking his head as she gives him two fingers behind her back.

“No way! I'm stealin' the booze!” Sera cackles as she takes the steps two at a time, only pausing to call back to him once. “Don't kill this one, yeah?” Then she laughs even harder at his confused look before dashing down the rest of the stairs in a clatter of feet and whooping.

Dorian sighs and shrugs to himself, wondering what the was all about. He decides to let it go, because like all things involving Sera, eventually he'll understand it. Or he won't. Both are equally likely. 

He should probably be more concerned about how frequently that happens when he's around her, but he can't bring himself to care. Not with what awaits him at the door.

There's a small potted plant in front of it; as well as a folded note, with three roses taped to it. Two are light pink, surrounding a solitary red. Dorian smiles to himself as he kneels to pick it up.

He waits until he's inside to open it, the plant set out in the window. He reaches out to stroke the soft white petals as he reads, a blocky script greeting him.

'Hey Big Guy!

It's going to take me awhile to get her looking her best again, but I didn't want you to be lonely. So here's a miniature calla lily, ready and waiting to keep you company. Take care of her for me, okay? 

I had a lot of fun last night. If you want to do it again sometime, shoot me a text. Or swing by.

\- Bull

Ps: Included a cheat sheet on the backside. Saw all the books, but you only really need to know a few things.'

The bottom of the note is covered in little doodles; of what he can only assume is himself being kissed by what might pass as Bull. If one is being generous.

All the same, he brings the paper to his lips. 

It smells faintly floral, though there's so many scents he can't place just one flower. Dorian sets it down next to the plant, giving it one final stroke as well, before heading off to find a cup or something to house the roses.

Oh if his mother could see him now; she used to love bringing in flowers from their landscaped gardens, and arranging them around the manor in elaborate patterns and vases. Now, Dorian sets the three roses in a larger coffee mug he vaguely recalls stealing from work.

Just as well he did, as the one pot a day rule was imposed shortly after. 

The roses look a little odd in their new home, but Dorian finds he likes the sight all the same. He'll look up their meanings on his phone later. Knowing Bull, he'll melt when he does.

Dorian finds himself eagerly awaiting it.

~

The following morning greets him with a headache. The likes of which not even three mugs of coffee have yet to banish, so Dorian opts to spend most of it in bed. Absently he browses his phone, halfheartedly searching for jobs one last time. By mid-morning the headache hasn't abated, though it has dimmed enough to let him make a call to Josephine. Thankfully she's happy to have in come back next week.

“I know you prefer afternoons, but I'm training a new employee and frankly Dorian I don't feel like babysitting you at the same time.” Josie teases him, ignoring Dorian's huff of indignation. He has half a mind to complain, but she switches topics before he can speak. “So, how are things with your would be love?”

Dorian groans and reaches back to pull his pillow over his head. It's far too early for this. Never mind that it's closer to lunch time now then breakfast. It could be dinner and it'd still be too early. Josephine just giggles at him, so he groans again as he settles the phone against his cheek. Might as well get this over with.

“Fine, thank you, and will you please pick a name to call him? I've lost track of how many nicknames you've given him – gentleman caller, suitor, dashing, now he's my 'would be love?' Tsk.”

“Fine? Only fine? Last time you denied anything even happened.”

“Ugh, alright. If you simply must know, we went on a date.” Dorian winces, holding the phone away from his ear until Josephine calms down. “Please never squeal like that again. You know, if you weren't my boss, I'd tell you I hate you.”

“ _Lord_ Dorian,” Josephine giggles once more, “I think you'll find you just did. But in all honesty, I'm happy for you. See you day after tomorrow, don't be late, or I'll hide the coffee.”

“You're positively evil, _Lady_ Josephine, and if I were a lesser man, I'd admit I missed you, but seeing as I'm not, I'm going to hang up now.” He does then, rolling his eyes at the laughter he can hear before pressing to end the call. 

His headache isn't going to leave him and his back's starting to hurt, so Dorian pulls himself from his bed with another groan. The light hurts, but he makes himself sit by the window to look outside. No Bull.

He hides his disappointment by checking on the plant; and only glances at the cheat sheet once. It hasn't wilted at all, and he's wary of over watering it again. However the soil feels dry, so he adds a little at a time until it feels moist and stops.

Maybe he won't kill it this time. One can only hope.

~

By mid-afternoon his headache still hasn't abated, despite the application of additional cups of coffee. To the point he'll probably need to make a grocery run later, much as Dorian's wallet will hate him for it. 

Despite this, when he sees Bull out in the garden, he sets down that last mug and pulls himself together. It's nothing like the date preparation, only a simple washing of his face, quick make up, and clean clothes. Just enough that he doesn't look like a slob, really. It's not like he's trying to look nice for Bull or anything.

Okay maybe the dash of cologne he slaps on before heading out argues against that, but Dorian ignores his inner voice as he makes his way down the stairs. He continues to ignore it as he wonders if maybe it would be better to call first, but Bull did say to stop by if he wants.

Dorian wants.

Still, it's much harder to go from wanting to actually doing, as he finds out when he approaches the garden. But a deep breathe and a self reminder that Bull said it was okay, and Dorian presses on. 

He's never really given the make up of the neighborhood much thought before. How rows and rows of apartment buildings lay in the east, in various states of upkeep. His building is the last before it changes to houses and two story buildings, a few parks, mostly dog-parks because of Fereldans curious love for the beasts.

He's not sure he'd want to live here himself... it's alright in his shoe-box, cramped as it may be. With a view like he has, he'll take it over the crummy places he's stayed in the past. Down here, however, there's only other houses to look at, and none of them are as nicely kept as Bull's home.

Of course, now that he thinks about it... the view's still here, it's just more centered, more focal. It's... it's...

Walking into the garden is like stepping into another world. It encompasses most of the backyard; and for all it's disarray, for all the weeds he can see, he can't deny how beautiful it is. The scent of flowers surrounds him, followed by assorted vegetables to the point his mouth waters. 

Every few feet there's another piece of art; some of it functional, like humming bird feeders or a bird bath. None are the sort of thing Dorian would buy of course, but they seem to suit Bull's taste. They're all loud, patterned oddly, and made out of materials he'd never have chosen himself. He supposes that's the point.

From what little time he's spent around Bull, he can tell that the man made his own way, and is proud of it. He's kind, very kind, but doesn't apologize for who or what he is. This Garden seems to be proof of that.

It's a hodgepodge of culture; dwarven, elven, human... Dorian wonders what it means that he sees no real qunari patterns, or anything. Just a few glass balls on stakes, painted in geometric patterns, but off enough he supposes it might be whatever Taash was trying to tell him the other day – Vashoth? Instead of qunari.

And there, in the center, is Bull. He's sitting at a bench, leg stretched out in front of him, his eye closed. The odd watering can sculpture which first drew Dorian's attention to this place casts shadows over Bull's face. He looks to be in pain, a grimace on his face as he idly rubs at his knee. Dorian can see strips of cloth unraveling from around Bull's leg.

He takes another step, hand coming up, when Bull opens his eyes.

“Dorian?” Bull blinks at him for almost a minute, mouth open in aw. Or perhaps disbelief. Then he appears to gather himself, and shakes his head. “Hey. What brings you here?”

“The note said... No. If I'm intruding, I can leave.” He turns to do just that when Bull cries out.

“No! Ah. No, it's fine Big Guy.” Bull sheepishly grins, and reaches back to scratch at a horn. “I just wasn't expecting you is all. Don't do well with surprises... Kinda figured you were done with me.”

“...Because I didn't call the next day.” Dorian sighs, understanding immediately. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to... more then one night. Even people I – I saw more then once, there was generally an informal understanding. My apologies.”

Bull looks at him, eye softening, and shakes his head once more. His gaze is soft as he reaches out to take Dorian's hand.

“Damn kid. You keep surprising me.” The grin Bull gives him isn't one Dorian would call happy, and he fights down the impulse to kiss it away. “Ah, I must be getting old. Time was I read people, not the other way around.”

“Well. I like surprising people.” Dorian squeezes Bull's hand, and moves to sit next to him. 

“Half thought maybe I'd hurt you, but you were too nice to bring it up.” Bull shrugs, looking away. Almost as if he's ashamed of himself. 

“What? No. No...” Dorian chuckles, shaking his head. “I assure you, if you'd hurt me, you would have heard about it. Despite how things may seem, I don't take things lying down.”

“Didn't mean anythin' by it. Just...” Bull shrugs again, and lets his sentence hang. Dorian's not much of a comforter, never has been. So they sit in silence for awhile.

Until, loathe as he is to bring it up, Dorian can't keep his curiosity down any longer. “Don't you have, er, boys? Where are they?”

“Eh. Sleepover with a family friend. My turn next week. Shouldn't take advantage of their kindness like this, but summer's almost over and the boys all behave, so what's the harm? They're having fun, and they've been through a lot. ...Why?” Bull yawns wide, reaching up with his other hand to rub at his eye. “Did you want to meet them?”

Bull sounds hopeful at that, so much as he hates to do it, Dorian has to stop and think. He's probably silent longer then he should be, but the matter is important and deserves his utmost concentration. _Does_ he want to meet them? At first, he leans towards no. But on the other hand... He turns to look up at Bull, and bites his lip. He nods softly, mind made up.

“I won't lie and say I know how to handle children. I don't. Alti hire servants to do that, so I have no experience with anyone younger than 13. And as I've told you, that experience was laughable at best. However...” He takes a deep breath, squeezes Bull's hand once more. Bull squeezes back. Filling with a thin, shaky courage, Dorian continues on. “I like you, childish as that may seem. I want to see you again... I enjoyed our date. I want to do it again... and if your boys come with that, then. Yes, I want to meet them.”

“They kind of do.” Bull nods, following it with a shrug. “Never really done this before either... Uh... Maybe next time we should eat in? Tomatoes are about ripe, could make a pizza. Fair warning, you'll need to bring older clothes. Krem's decent in the kitchen, can trust him. But I have to watch Skinner around knives and Rocky's fond of food fights. _Very_ fond of food fights.”

The look on Bull's face is such a mixture of fondness and exasperation that Dorian has to laugh. Next time, huh?

He'll look forward to it. Oh, wait.

“There is one more thing.” It's Dorian's turn to look sheepish now. “I'm happy to see you, of course. And I look forward to that date. But about the job offer – the one from your erm, friends? If they still need a tutor, maybe I could give it a shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeah maybe I chickened out regarding Felix's illness but weak immune system + accident is all I'm willing to do, the Blight is a 'myth' in this AU. 
> 
> I have no idea why he became the meme friend, or what's up with Dorian and Josie's Lord and Lady in joke, but here we are.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I can't stress enough how much Star has helped me iron out this fic, so as always, thanks lovely!
> 
> Minor Pentilyet and MerriHawkeBela in this chapter. Also, so much talking. So. Much. Talking.

The first day back on the job after a break is usually the hardest. At least, that's what Dorian's always heard. He's never really had to go back to one before, as whenever he's been told to leave, or to take some time to himself, it always went unsaid that he wasn't welcome back. 

Ah, the perils of being a pariah. 

Though he must admit it has gotten better in the past month. Between his blossoming friendships with Sera and Josie, and in no small amount his unsure relationship with Bull, well. Not even the templar incident was able to keep him down for more then a few days. It's a little scary to admit he's not as alone as he'd thought.

Either way, his first day back at the bookstore has gone fine. A little busier than he would like, though he supposes that means Josephine can keep paying him, but still. Terribly rude to make him work while he's on the clock.

The only thing he'd change if he could, is the hovering.

“Josephine...” Dorian sighs, and looks up from his register. She's rearranging books at a nearby wall, the same ones she rearranged an hour ago, and amazingly the same ones she rearranged the hour before that. It was somewhat cute the second time. Now it's mildly annoying. 

“Did you need something?” Josie doesn't look at him, just bites her lip as she places the most recent entry of a popular book series in front, so it draws the eye. Before hand, she had arranged them in alphabetical order. 

“I assure you, if anyone is interested in Ser Tethras drivel, I will direct them to that shelf.” At least the cover art is good. It depicts a mage in old timey armor, if too sharp for Dorian's tastes. She's surrounded by her group of unlikely friends, all with weapons raised to fight. Based on a true story his ass.

“Kindly keep your opinions on our customers reading choices to yourself, Dorian. We _are_ trying to get them to buy from us, if you'll remember.” Josie keeps at her rearranging, until everything is just so. Then she steps back, nodding to herself with a pleased little smile. 

“You don't have to hover. I assure you I am fine.” Dorian rolls his eyes and rests his head on a hand, watching her. “And I already swore not to leave without introducing you to Bull. He's not going to pick me up until my shift is over, and I promise I'm not going to sneak out with him while you're not looking.”

“It would be terribly romantic if you did.” She giggles. “But I'd have to fire you, and don't let this go to your head, but you are one of my better employees.”

“Perish the thought.” Dorian gives her a cheerful, if sardonic salute and gets back to work. Not that there's much to do, the crowds thinned out before the lunch rush. He spares a moment to grin that at least he'll miss it. The one reward of working the morning shift.

His thoughts turn to the coming afternoon, and he leans further on his hand as he sighs. In truth, he would like to go to this job interview alone. Not that he doesn't enjoy Bull's company, it's just... what they have is all so new, and what if he messes up? He's never had the best of personalities for work. 

Thankfully Josie likes his wit at times, and tolerates it others. Dorian hasn't hidden his sarcasm from Bull, far from it. But all the same. He finds he doesn't want to fail, and not because he needs the added cash. 

He wants to prove to Bull he can take of himself. Silly though that may seem.

Dorian sighs again, but it quickly turns to a startled gasp as grey fills his vision. Looking up, he manages to smile back at the figure in front of him. Bull's in track gear now; patterned in stripes which go every which way, a gym bag thrown over one shoulder and a towel around his neck. He smells of sweat though he looks fairly clean, and he leans down to kiss Dorian on the cheek.

Dorian, to his credit, manages not to go completely still. But Bull must sense his unease, because he begins to pull away. That won't do, so Dorian reaches out to tug Bull back down for a proper kiss. He ignores the squeal from the corner.

Tsk. He really must work on training Josie out of that habit. It's only increased while he's been gone. Probably too much time alone with her girlfriend. 

“ _Lady_ Josephine,” Dorian nods to her, then back at Bull. “This is my... this is Iron Bull. Please remember to breathe. I like being paid.”

“Oh... Oh, you didn't mention...” Josie makes a motion with her hands, spreading them out, before she gathers herself and tucks them in her skirts. She can't keep her eyes from getting even wider however, and she takes a step back to look up at Bull. “Oh my.”

Bull just laughs at this, cocking his head to the side. Then he does something which Dorian is unsure whether to be annoyed by, or jealous.

“Charmed. So you're Josephine Montilyet, huh?” Bull leans down to take her hand and kiss it. “Heard about you from Cassandra, but damn. When she told me you were pretty, she didn't say how pretty.”

Dorian's going to go with annoyed and jealous, actually.

“Yes, well. Our Lady Cassandra doesn't always have a way with words.” Dorian pulls himself to his feet, only stopping when Josephine glares at him.

“I know you're annoyed with her, but that's my girlfriend you're talking about.” Josie shakes her finger at him, “And may I remind you there's still twenty minutes left on your shift!”

Dorian opens his mouth to argue but then thinks better of it, and sits back down. “Right. Sorry, Bull, but I think you'll have to wait awhile.”

“Oh! He can taste test the new recipes!” Josephine perks right up. 

“I... suppose...” Dorian shakes his head, glancing up at Bull. “If you don't mind?”

“We're adding a cafe, and I'm not sure which bakery to get our goods from. Come, sit with me, we'll gossip over tea and cookies.” Josephine giggles as she reaches out to take Bull's offered arm. “I want to hear all about how you met my best employee. He's been surprisingly tight lipped about it.”

They go to do just that. They sit right out of Dorian's earshot, in the new area with tables and chairs. It isn't much of a cafe, just enough to cater to their regulars. 

Dorian's entirely sure they're talking about him as he glares at the clock, willing time to move faster. Every now and again, he'll hear Josephine laugh, or Bull. It's driving him insane, and time seems to move slower just to spite him.

Eventually his shift is over, and he goes to clock out. By the time he's back in the main room, Bull's standing and waiting for him. Josephine waves goodbye as they leave the store, and Dorian makes himself wave back despite his annoyance.

“You really don't have to worry.” Bull says once they're both strapped in his vehicle; a large van with plenty of seats and head room. It's one of the ugliest things Dorian's ever seen, though he supposes there's no way Bull could fit in anything smaller. 

“She had nothing but good things to say about you.” Bull continues on as he starts the engine, and pulls out into the road. Traffics light, so at least they won't be waiting in the car for long. “Mostly wanted to make sure I was treating you alright.”

“I'm sure she wasn't gossiping at all, either.” Dorian leans against the window with a sigh. “No, that was unfair of me. I apologize, Bull. Here you are taking time out of your day to drive me to a job I never would've heard about if not for you, and all I can do is complain.”

“'Salright. You seem kinda tense... everything okay?” Bull glances at him out of the corner of his eye in concern.

“I assure you I am fine.” He breathes, calming himself. “Just nerves.”

“Ah. No need for that. Merrill will love you, Isabela will want to eat you, and Hawke...” Bull frowns. “She'll probably be gruff at first then warm up to you. As for Dalish... got no idea, really.”

“Wonderful.” 

The rest of the drive passes by smoothly enough. Dorian struggles for something to say, and maybe Bull feels the same way, for he turns on the radio to cut through the silence. Bull apparently likes pop music, and the next twenty or so minutes is spent bantering about the merits of modern versus classical tastes.

He wins the argument of course. However from the way Bull smiles as he pulls into the driveway has him wondering if he let Dorian win. 

They drive, and drive, and drive on. The grounds are all well maintained, if not the sort of splendor Dorian would expect in Tevinter. He begins to get a little nervous as they pass by a lake complete with boat and dock. 

“Bull...” Is there a polite way to ask someone you've slept with if they're turning you in to your father? He never finds out, because finally the house comes into view and he forgets what he was going to say.

The house is more of a manor, with great wooden walls lined with stone. There's a garden here to, but this one appears more organized than Bull's. It's filled with flowers and Dalish statuettes, as well as a few Rivaini figures now and again and the odd Ferelden stone dog.

It's beautiful, but something about it speaks of new money instead of old. Perhaps it's the way everything is laid out; in a modern style as opposed to the polished marble favored by the elite in the city. Or maybe it's the way everything is rough around the edges, like the owners have yet to get used to living in comfort.

They come to a stop in at the side of the manor, in an area covered with gravel. There's a wooden overhang above them, with flowering vines wrapping about the beams. Two cars are already parked; some sports car Dorian can't tell the make of, only that it must have of cost a lot of money, as well as an older, beat up model. He can see books piled high in the backseat.

To the side of the cars are three motorcycles; each covered in decals; bloody roses, daisies, and nautical themed from what he can tell. Next to them is a bike with training wheels attached, also covered in decals. Cartoon animals this time. Dorian's lips twitch at that. 

All doubts he'd had about the child fitting in erase themselves from his mind, though he's not sure why he cared in the first place. After all this is just a job. One he's yet to be approved for. Why should he care about some unknown kids comfort?

“You're staring.” Bull reaches out to stroke Dorian's cheek, and Dorian finds himself leaning into his hand without thought. “Hey... it'll be alright. They're good guys. If real fuckin' odd.”

Dorian smiles back at him, eyes closing as Bull's hand moves over his face to settle in his hair. He gives Dorian's scalp a few scratches, humming softly. Dorian really should be annoyed, having spent an hour getting it just so this morning. But the feel of rough calluses and nails stroking his skin is too good to complain about. 

“Well...” He sighs, shivering as Bull keeps on scratching. “Too late to turn back now.” Dorian makes himself pull away and right his hair in the mirror. It would work better with some gel, but one does what one can. 

Bull squeezes his shoulder in passing as they walk back up to the garden. Dorian's nerves from earlier are back in full force, but he makes himself appear calm and relaxed. At least he hopes he does. He's always been told he wears his emotions on his sleeves, and he's none too sure 'please hire me I think I want the job but I don't know' is a good look to wear. 

The women wait for them in the middle of the garden at a small table, as well as a dwarf Dorian hadn't been expecting. He feels like he should know him from somewhere, but he can't place him. He just knows it's going to drive him crazy until he figures it out. 

“You must be Dorian.” A shorter, blonde woman folds her arms across her chest as she leans back in her chair. She studies him and Dorian studies her back. Her hair is cut close to her head, and tattoos adorn her face and left arm. They appear to be bloody streaks.

That, combined with her leather jacket and fishnets combo, as well as the wicked looking staff resting next to her, tells him this must be one of the blood mages Bull warned him about. He forces himself to breathe deep and offer her a hand.

“I am. And you are?”

“Arcaia Hawke.” She takes his hand with a firm grip, shooting him a grin as he struggles not to wince from how vigorously she shakes. “Just call me Hawke. Everyone does. Can't imagine why.” She glances at the dwarf while saying this, one eyebrow rising up.

“Oh! I'm Merrill. Merrill Sabrae, if you want to address me the human way.” One of the other women speaks then, and Dorian turns to look at her. She's an elf, tall and thin, with dark hair tied back in curling pigtails. Her dress is simple; a white tunic with patterns he can't place as well as tattered shorts, with a blue belt over her waist. She's covered in dirt, and Dorian figures this must be the gardener of the family.

Her face is strangely tattooed, and there's a carved wooden staff leaning on the chair next to her. Her arms are covered in wispy little scars, but... This is no blood mage. She can't be.

“And I'm Isabela. Just Isabela. Not Isabela Hawke or Isabela Sabrae. Bela if I like you.” The third woman speaks up then, her eyes roving over Dorian as she grins. “I think I like you.” Isabela's wearing the least out of the three of them in terms of clothing; just a halter top and mini-skirt slit up the side. But in terms of jewelry, she's bedecked in gold upon gold. From her ears to her ankles.

None of it is to Dorian's taste but he finds himself the slightest bit envious all the same.

“Careful. She'll eat you up if given the chance.” The dwarf speaks, shaking his head. 

“And this is Varric, a family friend.” Hawke sighs as she cocks her head towards the dwarf. “Don't talk to him, he has a way of worming into your good graces. Then next thing you know, you're fleeing the country _again_ because of political bullshit. And even worse than that, he drops by unannounced.”

“Now Hawke, you know your Mabari and I have a standing date to play Diamondback on the weekend of the month.”

“Varric. That's even weirder then stopping by unannounced.”

“He's your dog.”

“I... right.” Dorian's just going to pretend he understands all that. He nods then, and crosses his hands in front of him. “I'm here about tutoring?”

“Oh! I'll take you to her!” Merrill sits up, fetching her staff from beside her. She uses it as a walking stick as she leads him further into the garden, but the gemstones hanging from it by thick leather cords prevent it's purpose from being disguised. “She's a little shy, but I'm sure she'll warm up to you.”

Dorian follows her, only pausing once to glance nervously back at the table. Bull waves at him from where he's seated on one of the nearby stone benches, before turning back to argue with Varric about something. Dorian's not sure what, but the two of them are getting pretty heated from what he can gather. Hawke and Isabela appear to be goading them on.

“Bull talked us into this you know. Not that we weren't advised to get Dalish – and oh I wish she would choose a different nickname.” Merrill wrinkles her nose then, and shakes her head. “I suppose it could be worse. At least this way she's connected to her heritage, but really, Dalish? What was I saying again? Oh! Not that we weren't advised to get her a tutor, since none of us wants her at a circle.”

Dorian opens his mouth to reply, only to get cut off as she keep going. 

“But I'm a mage and Hawke's a mage so really we'll be handling a lot of her magical education. The only problem is neither of us went a circle, and there's the blood magic rumors. Only they're not really rumors, I'll admit. That's not going to be a problem is it?” Merrill stops and looks back at him, biting her lip. “I would never use blood magic on another person, and Hawke only ever harms people who harms her family first.”

“I... can't say I approve.”

“Few people do.” Merrill shrugs, face falling. 

They start walking again in silence. Despite the cheerful scenery around them, the air feels heavy and oppressive. After a few minutes of this, Dorian swallows and forces himself to speak up.

“I also can't say I've never been tempted by it.” Of course, he's always warred against that desire. Like his family before him, or so he thought. But this isn't the time for a debate about the uses of magic, much as he'd like to have one. 

“It's really not so bad, so long as you never trust them, or are willing to offer more then you can give.” Merrill looks away then and sighs. “Of course, that doesn't mean you won't lose it all anyway... I'm sorry, I've been rambling haven't I? What is it you do? Hawke's brother looked into you for us and I assume your record is impressive for a human, it doesn't really mean much to me, but of course if Bull likes you must be good. You know I had a friend once who hated your country – or Hawke had a friend and I was tolerated by him. But you don't seem all that bad. I'm still rambling aren't I? Oh I am so bad at this.”

“I was – I am, a mortalitasi. A death mage in layman's terms, though I find that be simplifying things. I'm more about the fear and terror parts of it, and less about the raising the dead with spirits part.” 

Which is a lie, but he has to keep some things to himself.

“I won't teach her that, don't worry.” Dorian continues on, rolling his eyes, prepared for disgust. “I'm also proficient in the schools of fire and electricity; healing and spirit magic I can do in a pinch but I don't specialize in them.”

He's not sure what to make of Merrill. Or even why he's here, since she just said they'll be handling most of Dalish's education. Being 'looked into by Hawke's brother' raises alarm bells as well, then there was the subtle dig at Tevinter. It's... awful and corrupt, but it's still home. Or it was. 

He's just about to turn around, and declare the whole day a waste, when they arrive at the edge of the garden.

In front of them lays a small table, around child size. Appropriate, for sitting on one side is a little elven girl, with long blonde hair tied back in a braid. Flowers are woven in her hair, though many of them are wilted. She's pouring tea for the other person sitting at the table, though person may be the wrong word.

A grizzled, rough looking mabari is sitting at attention, only stopping to lap at the tea once it cools. As they step closer, it turns it cloudy eyes towards them, lips twisted in a snarl. It growls low at them until Merrill whistles, then wags its stump of a tail furiously. Only to start growling again when Dorian takes another step.

“Ser Fuzzbutt!” The girl pipes up, arms crossing over her chest. She reaches out to shake a finger at the dog, and it looks thoroughly chastened in result. “That's very rude! Merrill Mama, is this my teacher?” The girl grins then, dusting herself off as she walks towards them. Her dress is covered in dirt and grass stains but she cares not a wit.

The child – Dalish? Stops in front of Dorian, her small face screwing up at as she looks at him. “Your face is weird. Like Uncle Carver when he tried to grow a must ask. Why'd you do that to your hair? Are you sick? 'Cause of tha hair loss.”

“Da'len, manners. And really, it's much better then the... thing Carver tried to grow.” Merrill hides a laugh behind her hand and shakes her head. She only shrugs when Dorian mouths 'shy?' at her.

Dalish doesn't appear perturbed however, and keeps on firing out question after question. Dorian's brows rise higher with each one. “I have three moms, do you have three moms? I doubt it, 'cause most people only have one, let alone two, but I have _three_. Are you really gonna help me with magic? I don't need it. Know not to listen to people in the beyond, I can figure out the rest! Are you really from the vinter? Uncle Fenris says-”

“I...” Dorian finds himself at a loss at first. He knew this was a bad idea. What does he know of children? Less than nothing, that's what. 

No. No, he's not going to be defeated by a child less than half his age. No, it wont do. 

“In order: No, I only have the one mother. Though I'm not sure she claims me as her son anymore. I've met your mothers, you're very lucky. And you should be proud of having them, they clearly care about you a great deal.” He laughs at that, and reaches up to straighten his hair. “I wear my hair like this because it's my personal style, like those flowers of yours.”

“Mama Bela puts 'em in for me!” Dalish twists the edge of her braid between her fingers, and shyly looks up at him. “Do you like them?”

“Might be time to change them out...” He pauses as her face falls, and quickly rectifies the situation. “But they look lovely on you. Blue and green really are your colors, they bring out your eyes.” He kneels, and holds out a hand, letting electricity spark along his fingertips.

“Whoa!” Dalish reaches out to touch his hand, and frowns at him when he extinguishes the magic. “Not fair! I can't do that.”

“I can teach you.” Dorian laughs, gently taking her hand. “Now, what you need to do is clear your mind, and concentrate...” 

Dorian never notices Merrill turning to leave. Or later, the way the mabari has stretched out by their feet, even when it rests its head on Dorian's side. He's too focused on Dalish, on showing her how to form little balls of fire in her hands, on how to keep them from growing too hot and blazing out of control.

It was a lesson he struggled with himself, always throwing everything he had into a spell. Her eagerness has him grinning, and blast it all, maybe Bull was right about him. He is enjoying this despite earlier misgivings. 

With a student who wants to learn, who isn't afraid of him. They move on to electricity next, and though Dalish frowns at the difficulty of it, her whooping cheer when she finally manages a spark that slams into him is worth his hair standing up on end. 

The next time he looks up, the sun has set in the sky and they've gained a crowd. He's covered in sweat and so is she, but none of the women in front of them seem to mind.

“Mama Hawke! Mama Bela!” Dalish grins wide as she dashes towards them, arms out. “Look what I can do!” She stops right in front of the women, and sure enough, she's able to summon a ball of lightning. However is quickly shorts out, as it's bigger than anything she's tried to cast so far.

Dalish turns back to him, her face awash with disappointment. 

“That's normal. Don't tell anyone, but the first time I cast a fireball, I burned down half my room.” Dorian winks at her, and to his relief she smiles back with a toothy grin.

“Does he meet your approval, little Hawke?” Hawke's already leaning down to fix Dalish's hair, before deciding it's a lost cause and letting it be.

“Hmm.... I guess so.” Dalish shrugs. “I still think his must ask – mustache – is weird though.”

“Alright then. Sounds like you've got the job.” Hawke grins at him, and offers her hand. He reluctantly takes it, but to his surprise she shakes once this time before letting go. However, as it's followed by a hard punch to his shoulder, he finds he preferred having his arm almost ripped off. “I'm thinking weekends for now, maybe we can work something out where Dalish studies at Bull's, or I can pick you up.”

“I wanna see Skinner!” Dalish chirps, pausing in her ascent of Isabela's leg. “I'm gonna marry her.”

“I thought you were marrying Krem?” Isabela reaches down to pick Dalish up, and bounces her on her hip. “Or was that Rocky?”

“Ew! Rocky smells. I'm gonna marry Skinner _and_ Krem.” She wrinkles her nose again, and sets her head on Isabela's chest with a yawn. “Maybe Lace to. Can we have cake after dinner? Pleeease? I studied and was polite like Merrill Mama asked!”

“We'll see, little Hawke.” Hawke reaches out to ruffle Dalish's hair, much to the child's annoyance. 

The walk back to the manor passes easily enough; the three women and their daughter chattering back and forth. Dorian lets their talk wash over him, and surprisingly finds himself a little homesick. Though his father had never taken him into his arms, nor would his mother ever have allowed him to get so filthy.

All the same, a melancholy mood settles over him as they near the wooden building. He's only brought out of when Hawke sends the other two inside and turns to him, Dalish's cries of “Uncle Varric, Uncle Varric, look what I can do!” washing over them.

“Well...” Hawke squares her shoulders and folds her arms over her chest. Dorian's prepared to accept the rejection, despite Dalish having appeared to like him. But she grins then, and he relaxes. “Nice job, Pavus. We'll have to work out pay rates next time, and when you've got your credentials lined up, make a formal contract.”

“That may take awhile. My files are being held hostage, as it were.”

“That won't be a problem, trust me. Isabela's decided she likes you.” 

“I... alright?” He's not sure what to make of that, but it doesn't appear to matter.

“Just trust me.” Hawke shrugs, and reaches into her pocket to take out an envelope. It jingles as she passes it over to him, then she nods towards the cars. “Better head off, Bull got a call about one of his strays and is in a tizzy.”

She turns towards to leave then, and he raises a hand to stop her.

“Wait, if I may, why are you hiring me? Merrill said it herself: Dalish already has two mages in the family, I'm sure you can teach her everything there is to know.”

“Ah. We'll teach her, sure. But she needs some formal training to, unless we want the circle to nab her up 'cause we're not doing out jobs. That's not something Merrill or I have, and fuck, if you knew how hard we fought to adopt her...” Hawke lets out a deep sigh, shaking her head. “Nah, don't worry about it. Not your problem. 'Sides, I've got a job to do, and Merrill's busier then she'd like to admit. Point is, we need you. You still game?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Hawke.” Dorian gives her a little bow, which she laughs at.

“Oh, I like you. Take care, and see if you can keep Bull from worrying his horns off. Dalish is kinda attached to him.” She turns with a wave, and Dorian knows a dismissal when he sees one. 

The clink of coin keeps him company as he walks towards the overhang, whrte Bull is waiting by his van. He appears deep in a conversation on his phone, and Dorian winces at the look on his face. He doesn't want to interrupt, so he decides to look in the envelope.

…Which. Well. Wow.

He knew the Hawke's had to be well off, but fuck. Just, fuck. Dorian counts out the coins again, and half thinks he should turn around to see if Hawke made a mistake, but stops himself just in time. No, he's kept Bull waiting long enough.

Still...

Wow. Just, wow. He'll still have to budget, but maybe he needn't be quite so frugal going forth, if this job pans out. 

He hopes it does, and not because of the money. Surprising as that is. He wants to see Dalish grow and improve in her craft, he wants to see what school she favors. He spares a moment to hope it's not the one her mothers follow, but shoves it to the side.

Maybe there's something to this teaching thing after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind words guys, hope you enjoy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry for the wait. I think I need to add the last half of August to my list of hell months, alongside December and January. 
> 
> Anyways, here's the next chapter. As always, many kudos to Star for all her help and encouragement.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Minor fantasy racism, PTSD fuckery, and references to child abuse. Oh, and it's a Bull POV chapter so a bit of a step back but not far I promise.

Work is slow today, for all Bull only has two clients to see to. He keeps thinking back to his date with Dorian, and the day of silence that followed. Now, Bull's never really dated anyone before, but he could take a hint. 

Then? Dorian threw it all out the window by stopping by, and ah. Bull can't be too hard on him for fucking up. Bull doesn't know what he's doing either. 

Ah, why's he even thinking of this? He's got work to do.

His first client only laughs at him when he explains why he's so spacey; and the two of them trade stories back and forth while she goes through her reps. The second has a hot lunch date, so begs off of today's training.

Fine by Bull, as his head's not here anyway. Yeah, he's got an itching feeling between his horns that he should point out how the guy didn't show for his last appointment either, or how he'd cut out earlier the appointment before that. Bull gets paid either way, and until the guy learns to get serious about this, he's more than happy to let him waste his money.

Turns out kids eat a lot, and Bull's not going to deny himself good food either.

Luckily Bull's always been good at building up a camaraderie with his clients. It does no good to teach someone who doesn't want to learn, and while he'll take some ribbing about being an oxman, especially from someone whose never been around qunari of any sort before, he's not about to get through a brick wall. His Tama didn't raise a fool.

'Sides, he's got a hot lunch date of his own to think about. Well, he's meeting Dorian around lunchtime to take him over to the Hawke Estate. But Dorian is hot, and they're dating, and isn't that terrifying, so it counts. It totally counts.

Bull swears he's never been so nervous in his life. Yeah, sure, he's served under the Qun in war zones, defected, gained a small family, and none of that was easy, it's just. Shit.

He really, really doesn't want to fuck this up. He's got his boys, a home, some friends, and for a long time he figured that was enough. Now though?

Well, it's not like his life is gonna be ruined if this thing doesn't work out. Still...

Fuck this is stupid. He should just get in the van and head off to pick Dorian up. It's a little early yet, but Bull wants to do some recon. For all he's been a civilian half a decade, a lifetime of spying has yet to curb his instincts for snooping. 

It's in Dorian's best interest anyway. Hawke's never been one to turn down someone who needs help, and if Bull can see how his other job is, he might be able to give the guy an edge on being hired. 'Sides, he'll get along with Dalish. 

Bull's got a good feeling about that. She's shy kid at times, only ever really comes out of her shell if she's showing off to Skinner, Krem, or himself. Having someone else she can talk magic crap with, who isn't one of her moms, would surely help. 

For all Bull held on tight to his Tama's apron strings, he also appreciated having time away from her, with adults who respected him. Now he realizes they were testing him to see what role he'd best fit under the Qun, but back then Ashkaari had been proud to get their attention. Bull still is, even if it's a bit tainted by the things that followed.

He manages to hang out at the gym, finishing up paperwork for another ten minutes before he gives in and heads to the van. It's a sturdy old thing, with dents and scrapes, but he's proud of the decals covering it, and it gets him and the kids places. All that really counts.

~

Huh. So this is where Dorian works? It's not half bad, really. Could do with some repairs, but the old stone and wood building has a certain kind of charm. It looked Ferelden on the outside, but the moment Bull pushes through the wide doors, he's pleased to see it's a mix inside. 

He's always felt more at home in places like this, with more then one culture influencing it. Sometimes Bull wishes it hadn't taken him so long to realize that.

The smell of old books mix with what must be Antivan spices, and there's decorations from multiple countries gracing the walls. A corner is blocked off, construction just about finished, but what really catches his eye is Dorian.

Dorian's trading barbs Bull can't quite hear with a well dressed woman, probably his boss. He looks tired, and bored, but his eyes light up when he teases the woman. She seems just as fond of him, and they both part, shaking their heads.

Well, good. Bull was worried about Dorian not having friends, but seems he's managed to make some. Not that he's dismissing Sera, 'cause no one really could. Always good to have options is the thing.

Bull steps forward to stand in front of Dorian, and grins at startling him. The kiss that follows may be too soon, and it stings that Dorian pulls away... and then Bull's really being kissed. Shit yeah, this was a good idea.

Introductions happen next, and before he knows it he's being pulled away from Dorian with a soft yet forceful grip. The slender, well dressed arm intertwined with his own doesn't have enough strength to drag him along to the sectioned off corner, but Bull goes willingly.

There's a look in Josephine's eyes he doesn't want to test. Shit, Bull's not stupid. He warily eases down into a seat too small for him, and does his best to look nonchalant. 

“So...” Josephine sets a tray of cookies in front of him, followed by two steaming cups of tea. Bull keeps a straight face as she sits down and crosses her arms in front of her. “You're courting Dorian, I take it?”

“Ah...” Courting, huh? He's not sure that's what they're doing, but... “We're spending time together, yes. He's a good guy. I'm hoping we can make it work.” 

“He is.” Josephine reaches out and scoots a cup towards him, then very firmly bites a cookie in half . She chews in a way that makes Bull feel threatened before taking a sip of tea, and eyes him over her mug. “I would hate for him to be hurt. More then he already has been.”

“Hey... I'm not going to hurt him. More than people do in relationships, anyway. I'm not perfect and neither is he.” Bull fights the urge to scratch at his nose, and takes a cookie instead. Then another, because damn, free sweets? Like he's going to turn that down.

“No,” Josephine giggles. “He's far from that. ...Apologies, Ser Iron Bull. Dorian may be my employee, but he's also my friend. I've no intention to threaten you with a shovel or anything.”

“No, you're Antivan. You'd just send an assassin after me.” Bull gives her a slow and deliberate wink, follows it with an easy smile. 

“I assure you we don't do that anymore.” She sniffs, then smiles back at him. “Well, not for something as minor as this. ...Dorian's a grown man and can take care of himself, it's just... He is dear to me. And don't you ever tell him that or he'll be insufferable.”

“More so then usual?” Bull teases, taking another cookie. “Mmm, the chocolate chip is good. Not so sure on the sugar cookie, kind of over sweet. Good though.”

She giggles at him once more, and swats his arm. Their conversation turns to the food then, and he gives her some tips. Damn but Cassandra lucked out getting this one, he's almost envious. That is, until Dorian makes his way over to their table, all annoyed and a little worried they've been talking about him.

Then he's not envious at all. Bull counts himself as lucky, too.

~

The ride passes slowly at first, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Bull tries to reassure Dorian everything will be alright, but Dorian's a little prickly today. Bull's torn between finding it cute and being worried.

Which makes him consider that maybe, just maybe he needs more socialization then his kids and his clients. His caretaking instinct is in fucking overdrive, and that's not what he wants from Dorian. He's got a feeling that's not what Dorian wants from him, either.

Conversation picks up once he flicks on the radio, and surprise surprise, Dorian's a bit of a music snob. They banter back and forth about bands and styles until the estate comes into view. Before Bull knows it, he's sitting down on one of the old stone benches Hawke has strewn about the place. The dogs carved into the stone kinda freak him out, but at least he knows it can handle his weight.

Something catches in his throat as he catches Dorian's eye when he glances back over his shoulder, but Bull makes himself smile and offer a cheery wave, though he doesn't feel like it. All the same, he watches Merrill and Dorian until they're out of sight. Then it's time to deal with the three sets of eyes he feels upon him.

“Alright,” Bull sighs, and leans back as far as he can without falling, until his leg is stretched out in a straight line. “Only gonna say this once: Yes, we're dating. No, I don't know everything about him. Yes, I'm sure he's hiding things. No, I don't think he's any danger to Dalish. I'm giving him time to tell me on his own if he wants to, so if you've gone snooping – 'course you have – keep it to yourselves.”

“Tiny, I would never!” Varric gives him a grin that they both know is unconvincing, then shares a look with Isabela. “You sure, though? There's stuff I know you'd like.”

“Some of it's probably rumor.” Isabela shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “But some of it? Oh, baby, the pictures back it up.” She fans herself a little and sighs. 

Bull only crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at them. Curiosity tugs at him, and yes, damn it, he does want to know. But overpowering that is a sense of longing, and shit. It's not worth it. From how jumpy Dorian acts at times...

“Okay, you've both had your fun. Leave 'em be.” Hawke reaffirms herself as Bull's favorite. Well, after Dalish. 

There's something to be said about a woman who appreciates dragons almost as much as himself. Makes him wonder why she didn't take up shape shifting, creepy as it is.

“We'll save the grilling after they've been dating, oh, say, two months? Then we'll be merciless.” Hawke promptly falls from the number two slot on Bull's list of favorite Hawkes. Merrill now resides there, at least until she goes into too much detail about her mystic beyond crap.

“You're no fun Hawke.” Varric leans forward. “So, how's Rocky? Been awhile since I've seen him. Still playing with bottle rockets and pop rocks?”

It's rare for Varric to ease up on questioning, always looking for more info, so Bull takes the out. 

“Yeah, he's still trying to blow shit up, but he's doing alright. Wish I knew more dwarfs from below, 'specially some his age. The Harding's help out when they can, but their daughter was born on the surface, so...” Bull shrugs, mind easing as he talks about one of his kinds. Although it's a worrisome topic. “Yeah.”

Varric talks dwarf with him for awhile; recommends a few places Rocky might be interested in when he's older; warns Bull off the coterie and the merchants guild like he always does, and the four of them pass the next few hours catching up. Varric teases them now and again when the conversation inevitably returns to their kids; being the only non-parent of the bunch. It's good.

So of course it all comes crashing down when his phone rings. Bull blinks down at it, trying to place the ringtone, then curses as he surges to his feet.

“Fuck, Sorry guys, gotta take this. It's Giselle. She only calls for one reason.” Fuck, fucking shit, shitting fuck; Bull really hopes he's wrong. They'd both hoped that this time things would go smoothly. Which proves they're idiots, but still. 

He limps off to his van, presses accept call, and brings it to his ear.

“Hey, Gis...”

“Iron Bull.” Giselle's cultured, careful voice fills his ear, an undertone of worry to it. Well, shit. So much for hoping and not-praying. Well, praying in Giselle's case. Shit, shit, shit. “I know you are a busy man, and I hate to trouble you, but-”

“Skip the pretenses, Gis. Just tell me how my boy is.” Bull's very proud of himself that his voice does not crack in the middle of his sentence. Bull is also a liar.

“It's not good.” 

“Never is. Lay it on me.”

“I'm afraid young... 'Grim' is in distress. His most recent family has... fallen through. He came back to us last night, and locked himself in his room. I was hoping that maybe you could stop by? He always reacts well to your presence.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Bull lifts the phone from his ear, checks the time. They've been here a few hours, sun's getting low in the sky. Dorian'll probably be done soon. “I'm about an hour away.”

“That's fine. I don't think he will try to run away again.” Giselle sighs, and Bull can tell he's not going to like what she's about to say. “He was bruised when he returned here, and we will of course be investigating it, but-”

“But you don't expect much to come of it. Yeah, I know Gis.” Bull sighs himself, and pinches between his brows. He's lost count of how many times Grim has gone to a new home, only to be sent back. His 'parents' not prepared to deal with a nonverbal teenager, and taking it out on the boy.

“Must you call me that?”

“Hey now, it's hilarious.” Bull's laugh is a little wet, and they both know it, but neither draws attention to it. “I know it makes you smile, can't hide it from me Gis.”

“So long as you don't call me it in front of the children again.” 

“Aw, where's the fun in that?”

Giselle laughs at him then, says something Bull can't really follow, he's loosing track of where he is. Of when he is. He figures he must have said goodbye, because a faint click gets through the foggy haze surrounding him. 

Then everything is red, hot steam pressing in on all sides. No, humidity, and he can feel sweat pouring down his back. The sounds of the jungle echo around him, as well as the chatter of his men. 

No, wait. They're dead. They have been a long time. He's gotta... he's gotta... he's...

There's pain, in his knee and in his fist. Not the one holding the phone. Hurts to breathe. Back to the present, back to the now. Not in the jungle anymore. Not back there. Not.

He didn't hurt anyone, right? That's the most important thing. He feels sick. Everything's too hot, and...

And... huh. He's on his knees, explains the throbbing. His fist is embedded in the gravel, which. He won't lie to himself, isn't great. Been awhile since he's slipped like this. 

“Bull?” Hawke's voice, a little to his left and behind him. “Ah, fuck, Bull. Hang on, I know a few healing spells. I promise, no blood magic. Can I come over to help or are you still out of it?”

She's concerned, in her own way. All the same, Bull forces a few deep breathes before he nods, makes himself list three things in his line of sight. 

The van. It's old and beat up, but it gets the job done. The dragon decal had been a birthday gift from the boys. Varric had paid them, he thinks. For what Bull still can't get out of him to this day.

The gravel. It's shiny, black. Not Fereldan brown. Hawke must've imported it. Or maybe Isabela, it has a quality to it she'd like.

There's flowering vines curling around the awning. Merrill must have taken his advice on making it look more natural.

Okay. That's enough.

“Yeah... Yeah, I'm back in my head now.” Bull breathes out through his nose, takes a deep breath in. Holds it. Out through his nose, in through his mouth. Holds it. Hawke's hands on him make him jump, but he keeps on breathing. Out through his nose, in through his mouth. Holds it.

She's quiet as she heals him, soothing the ache in his knee and the scrapes coating his hand. It's not much, but he shouldn't be too sore tomorrow. She lets him breathe awhile, before moving to sit in front of him, arms folding across her chest.

“One of the ones you couldn't adopt, huh?” 

Bull's always liked that about Hawke. She'll joke with the best of them, but she's got a way of seeing a situation for what it is, and cutting through the bullshit. For all she's got a beresaad spear on her back acting as a staff, he'd have pegged her as ben-hassrath. He ignores how she'd have shared the fate of all saarebas. 

Not the time, he's still getting back to himself and one slip up could mean he's ten, twenty years ago.

“Yeah.” Bull shoves the dark thoughts away with a shudder. “The last one from Krem's group... got three with me, you've got Dalish, and the Harding's have Stitches.” And Bull can't for the life of him save Grim.

Hawke doesn't say it's going to be okay. Instead she reaches out to punch his arm, and sits with him until he's on his feet. 

“Your boy should be about done soon. I'm going with Bela and Merrill see how it went. You need anything?” Hawke shoots him a worried look as she pulls herself to her feet.

“Nah. I, thanks, Hawke. Gotta make some phone calls.” Find a sitter for the kids for tonight, Maybe one of Taash's siblings? Two owe him favors, and a third would love to have a favor to cash in with Bull. Figure out what to tell Dorian, there's not enough time to drop him off at home.

“Right. Good luck, Bull.” Hawke heads off, stops once to look back at him and sigh, then keeps on going.

A few more breathes to calm himself, and Bull takes out his phone once more.

~

Dorian keeps looking over at him as they drive. Bull needs his full attention on the road, but he can catch glimpses out of the corner of his eye now and again. He's not sure what to make of the look on Dorian's face. Every time he sneaks a peek there's a different emotion. 

The silence in the van isn't helping either, so Bull flicks the radio back on. After the third bright and peppy song that Bull isn't really feeling, Dorian speaks up.

“I can't believe I'm asking this, but are you okay?” There's a pause then, followed by a sigh. “Stupid question, anyone can see you're upset. Alright, better question. What's wrong? Hawke mentioned one of your boys is in trouble. A broken arm perhaps? I'm afraid I'm not very good at healing, or I'd offer my services.” Dorian chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but Bull doesn't bite. 

It's hard to laugh when he keeps reminding himself how he's failed one of the kids he'd sworn, if only to himself, to protect. Stupid as it was to do so. He's never been able to turn off his feelings, probably why he was a shit Qunari.

After a few more attempts from Dorian, Bull winces. Much as he doesn't want to talk, at all, he figures he owes the guy a bit of an explanation if he's going to keep him out longer than planned. Reaching over, he turns the volume low, until only the cheerful tune is audible. The lyrics aren't important anyway.

He thinks it's something about love, a lot of human songs seem to be.

“Kinda. See, before I could adopt my oldest, Krem-”

“Your eldest is named Krem?”

“Short for Cremisius, and yeah, he's a Vint like you. You'll meet him soon. Might hate you at first,” Which was putting it lightly, from what he knew of the Tevinter class system and Krem's history, but one problem at a time. “But he'll get used to you. Anyway, like I was saying-”

“Do go on.”

Bull glances over at Dorian, brow arching. The little shit is grinning at him, and motions him to continue. Rolling his eye, Bull lets it go for now. 

“Riiight. There was a grace period, where I had to get him Ferelden status before I could even adopt him. It's a long story, and some of it's Krem's to tell, so. Later. Point is, he had to stay in the Chantry for a good few months. Met a lot of other orphans, and when I visited, I met them to. Kinda got attached.” Bull goes quiet for awhile, awash in memories.

It's not a time he'd like to forget, exactly, but more... Well, to put it bluntly, that time had really sucked. As grateful as he was and still is that Giselle bent rules so he could visit Krem, that had put him on the shit list of some of the other members of the Chantry. Now Bull's always been used to people hating him, but. 

Fuck, it wasn't a good time at all. Then there was the whole waiting period while they went over his history and credentials to see if an 'Ox' could handle raising a kid, never mind how much the kid wanted to go home with him... and Bull's being unfair, but he's upset. 

He'll cut himself some slack for that. Thank fuck Krem's dad could see how well Krem did with Bull, and helped speed up the process. Though Bull figures it's part of Krem's abandonment issues... shit he doesn't want to think about this right now.

He jolts back to the present as Dorian lays a hand on his thigh. 

“Am I to guess Dalish is one of those children?” Dorian looks nervous, like he's not sure his comfort is welcome, but strokes up and down on the baggy, sweaty fabric which covers Bull leg. Bull wants to chuckle at the bit of distaste he can see Dorian has for the pattern.

“Knew you were smart. Yeah... yeah, she's one of 'em. Gave 'em all nicknames, which the Chantry just loved, let me tell you.” He laughs, his eye misting up at the memory of how they'd all refused to answer to anything but those. “Got most of 'em homes, or took them in myself. Spent five years doin' it, to. Krem and Rocky are pretty well settled in with me, Skinner'll get there. Dalish is probably better off with mages anyway, she's not gonna want for anything, how well off they are. The Harding's are good people, so I'm not worried about Stitches, but...”

Bull sighs again, shaking his head. His throat feels tight, and he coughs to hide how he's choking up. 

He can see Dorian mouthing their names in bewilderment, eyes wide. Yet he keeps running his hand over Bull's thigh in soothing circles. Makes Bull's heart hurt a little. Fuck, he really wants this thing between them to work out. 

“But?” Dorian gently prods him.

“But... well, it's not easy to adopt a human in this country, unless you are one. Elves? Yeah. Shit, yeah. No one really cares. Dwarves are pretty easy to adopt to, once they're topside. But humans? Heh... Figure being 'qunari' didn't really help me out there. Probably never would've been able to adopt Krem, all the red tape involved, if not for his dad stepping in. My other two human boys? One only got a home a few months back, and the second...”

“Is still at the Chantry?” Dorian's hand has gone still on his thigh, and his tone is hard to parse. Bull could look over, but he doesn't want to get in a wreck, his vision's misty enough as is. Times like this he misses having two eyes.

“Yeah. He's got a serious face and manner, so I call him Grim. Doesn't talk, so some of them took it to mean he's scared of me.” Never mind how Grim doesn't talk to anyone, but sure, blame the oxman. Okay, this isn't the time to be bitter. “The Chantry tries to foster out kids, which can go well. There're some good foster parents, but Grim's never lucked out. Been in and out of homes as long as I've known him. Even been adopted a few times, but he always gets sent back. Fuckin' every time. So he runs away a lot.”

It was alright at first, cause Grim had at least run away to Bull. That'd been fine, much as it worried the chantry, but at least the ones with sense knew he'd be safe there. Bull had known what to do, what with how Krem used to run away, back before he'd been adopted.

But the third or fourth time Bull had to return Grim to the chantry, he'd lost some of Grim's trust, and the kid stopped coming to him. Now when he takes off, he never knows where Grim will turn up. Or if he even will.

Every time he sees the kid he wonders if it'll be the last. Seems like Dorian doesn't know what to say to that, from how quiet he is. But he hasn't let up on his stroking, so Bull lets himself soak up the comfort like a sponge.

He's strong, and won't break, but. Sometimes it's nice to let himself be taken care of is all. 

“Anyway... Shit, sorry about this, but do y'mind if we stop by the chantry before I take you home? Grim's locked himself in his room and one of the mothers; Giselle, wants me to see if I can get him out of it.” 

Dorian's hand stills on Bull's leg, and he winces. Shit, he knows he shouldn't have tested while they're still so new. He breathes through his nose, getting ready to offer an apology when Dorian speaks.

“Not how I planned to spend the evening.” Dorian's hand resumes its path up and down his thigh, and Bull settles. He's still worried, but it's easing with each pass of those elegant fingers. “In truth, I wanted to see if I could cash in that check of mine, but. Clearly this is important to you.”

“Damn, you're making me choose between sex and my boys? That's just mean, Dorian.” Bull's heart isn't in the teasing, not really. Still he makes an attempt to lighten the mood. Things got way too heavy for awhile there.

“I think you'll find I am a cruel man when I wish to be.” Dorian pinches his leg, then pulls his hand back. 

“You? Nah. You're a sweetheart, when it comes down to it.”

“Oh hush. I have a reputation to maintain.” Dorian reaches over to pinch him again. Bull's not worried though, he can hear the laughter that follows.

Things settle after that, and Bull tries to keep worry from his mind. Things will go fine. He'll get Grim out of his room, see if he can't talk Giselle into letting him make hot chocolate or something. Bull spares a moment to think about her being annoyed at bringing someone else, but she did say it was urgent.

“You know... In case you're worried. Well, don't be.” Dorian says from beside him. Bull peers at him from the corner of his eye: Dorian's looking out the window, watching the countryside go by. His arms are wrapped over his chest in a self hug. Bull wonders if Dorian even realizes he's doing it.

“'Bout what, big guy?”

“That, I don't know. That you've failed them, or something. Don't. Don't do that. I can't think of any kid luckier than one of yours.”

“You a mind reader?”

“No, it just seems like something you'd do.” Dorian sighs, and Bull looks away as he sees Dorian turn back towards himself. Probably for the best, much as an accident would make his fuckin' day. Y'know, to go with everything else. “I've only met Dalish, but she's a delight. Yes, I can see you smirking, hoo-rah, I liked one of your 'boys'. My point still stands. You haven't failed any of them.”

“You don't know that, big guy. Haven't met 'em all yet.” Bull wants to believe him, he does. Still feels like he failed Grim. 

“I don't need to. I know you. Or, I'm beginning to.” He hears Dorian shift again, and figures he's turned back to the window. “Anyone who cares about his boys as much as you do... Well. Just believe me, though I know that's a lot to ask.”

“It's not. Thanks, big guy.” Bull lifts one hand off the steering wheel and reaches over to squeeze Dorian's shoulder. He waits until he feels tense muscles relax before letting go. 

“One last question, if you'll humor me. ...How old is this Grim?”

“16, why?”

“No reason.” 

Bull pretends he doesn't see the flash of Dorian's phone screen illuminating the van, or hear the way he taps out message after message on the device. He's curious, but his mind's on Grim and getting him out of this mess. Whatever Dorian's doing can't be connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I've come to accept I can't write Bull without PTSD flashbacks happening at least a little, natch.
> 
> Next chapter it's back to Dorian, and there's probably going to be one more Bull POV chapter before the fic ends, but this is mostly Dorian's story. Bull is a big part of it though.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late chapter and all I can really say life is majorly kicking my ass right now. I'll try to get things back on track but I can't promise, as life is still majorly kicking my ass right now.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Star for the read through and idea bouncing.

'Felix, I have a favor to ask, if you'd be so obliging.' Dorian glances over at Bull, but he's got his eye on the road. Probably for the best. It's not like Dorian's afraid of him seeing what he's typing, not exactly. It's more, well. Bull hasn't asked for help at all. But Dorian feels like he should give it none the less.

Strange as that may be.

After everything Bull has done for him, he owes it to the man to at least try. Still, if Felix can't think of something... Dorian doesn't want to get Bull's hopes up only to see that horrible, lost look on his face again.

'You know Dorian, there's this thing' The phone flashes as Felix's message comes through. It's quickly followed by another. 'Called texting your friends just to talk to them.'

'Not only when you need something.' And another.

'Or when they haven't heard from you in weeks and are worried sick' and yet another.

'Just :)'

'A reminder :D' 

Dorian pauses for a moment to reread the words, in part to see if another deluge of text is about to assault him. When none comes, he feels safe in replying. 'I'd apologize but I distinctly recall talking to you just a few days ago. We shared a phone call, if you'll remember?'

'I know, but it's fun to give you grief :B.'

'Har, har.' Dorian rolls his eyes, but finds his mood lifting despite the silliness of it all.

'You love me and you know it. Also, you're the only one I get to sharpen my wit on these days. So, what did you need?'

'Remember when we first looked into ways of getting me away from my father, back before...' Before things got so dire, and he'd had no choice except to run. Dorian looks over at Bull, a smile forming on his face as he shakes his head. Perhaps it hasn't all been bad. 'Just, before.'

'...I do, but why? I'm sorry my father didn't go for the adult adoption scheme, and well... it's too late now. I'd thought taking you on as an apprentice was enough to protect you. I'm sorry it didn't work.'

'It did work.' For a time at least, and studying under his former mentor will always be among his fondest memories; but that is neither here nor there. Dorian has no desire to spend the evening lost in the past, despite being the one whom brought it up. 'I'm not asking for myself. I told you Bull's adopted three children, yes? He'd like to adopt more, but can't.'

'Okay. Again, not really sure what you're asking me. I'll help if I can, you know that Dorian, but I need somewhere to start.'

'Thank you Felix. I can practically hear you opening up the books now.'

'Actually, more like opening up a laptop; everything is online these days. Which you would know if you ever bothered to learn how to use technology.'

'I've learned how to use my phone!'

'Out of necessity, and I had to explain video chat to you. Now, what am I looking up? Qunari Adoption in Ferelden?'

'Not quite. The boy is 15, and human. I was wondering if you could look up alternatives to adoption in Ferelden?'

'...Dorian. You are very, very lucky I'm bored. Or I'd charge you my standard rate P:. Call me later?'

'Of course. Thank you, Felix.'

~

The chantry looms before them, at least as much as any Ferelden architecture can loom. Personally Dorian gives it a five out of ten, six if he's feeling sporting. It has nothing on the wealth of Tevinter class; the spiraling towers and rich tones he's used to. For all that vines creep up the brick walls, accompanied by patches of moss here and there, it's too new a structure to be properly foreboding.  
All for the best, he supposes, as children live in the back of it. Dorian's self aware enough to know that while he probably would've loved to grow up in a crypt, it isn't standard childhood rearing practice. 

Mores the pity.

They park in front, Bull pausing to look up at the building after he turns off the van. With a great sigh and an utterance about it never getting any easier, he nods over at Dorian, silently asking him if he wants to come in. At least, that's what Dorian assumes. It seems right at least, though he has no idea when he became proficient at reading Bull.

All the same, he gets out with the man, and walks with him to the wooden doors. He fights against the urge to reach out, offer comfort, but soon enough the point is moot. They're entering the building. On either side of the entrance are statues; figures kneeling in prayer. From the look of the place, they're probably one of the grander parts of the chantry.

He's proved right once they're inside. The windows are large, well cleaned; but simple, and there's very little decoration about the place. A few sisters mill about, getting ready for evening services; and there's a brother leading a gaggle of mismatched children out from the back of the building. The chantry's orphans, he presumes.

“Iron Bull.” A woman garbed in the red and white robes of the chantry approaches them, arms clasped in front of her chest. She nods at Bull with a smile on her face, though it slowly drops when she takes in Dorian. “And you are?” Her manner is guarded, her words carefully spoken. Dorian can't quite place the accent, but he can tell when someones pegged him as a Tevinter heathen. 

Oh, joy. The evening's looking up already.

“This is Dorian. He's my – well. He's my...” Bull turns to look at him, unsure of what to say. 

“Lover.” This isn't the time or the place, but the words seem to dance off his lips, and Dorian feels a flutter in his chest once they're gone. He feels sixteen and quashes it. “He didn't have time to take me home first.”

“Right. Sorry, Gis.” Bull has the decency to look abashed, and he reaches up to scratch nervously at a horn. “Uh, Giselle, Dorian. Dorian, Giselle. Grim still in his room?”

“I can only hope. Perhaps your... Dorian would like to stay here? So as not to alarm the boy?” Giselle looks at him as if he is a bug on her shoe. 

He gives her a sardonic little wave and a smile. At least he's an attractive bug. 

“Yeah, that...” Bull winces a little, rubbing the back of his neck as he shoots Dorian an apologetic look. The small war silently going on between him and the mother doesn't appear to interest Bull. “Might be best. He doesn't always deal well with new people. 'Til I can get him out anyway. You gonna be okay here, Dorian?” 

“I think I'll survive.” Dorian raises a brow, shaking his head in amusement. “At least the place doesn't have any nugs.” Ah. He'd meant to say that part in his head. But the twin looks of bewilderment he receives almost make up for being trapped in a chantry for the next couple of hours. “I assure you, I'll be fine.”

Bull gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before he can object, though Dorian isn't sure he wants to anymore. Not after what happened in the bookstore. The thought that maybe public affection is okay, that maybe he's finally escaped his father, follows him as he watches Bull head off towards the back.

It's been ages since his father tried contacting him. Maybe he really is safe now. There's been no strangers following him home, no people watching him in the street, no letters from 'concerned friends'. As if Dorian has any beyond Felix and Maeveris.

Well... any from Tevinter, that is. He smiles despite himself at the thought of Sera, Josephine, and perhaps even Cassandra. It has been awhile since he's seen her. Since he hasn't been deported and that event lead him to Bull, it might be time to forgive. He's let her stew long enough.

He's drawn out of his thoughts by a cough from Giselle. With a sigh, he turns towards her. Well, best to get this over with. He's never had good experiences with chantry laymen, and he can already sense Giselle writing him off.

“Alright,” Dorian sighs, turning towards her. She wants a 'Vint? He'll give her one. “Let's hear it.”

“Hear what?” Giselle rests her hands on her hips, head tilting slightly to look up at him. Her robes make her look more imposing than she actually is. Dorian just needs to remember that. 

It's all about appearances; and once you figure that out, you can see past them. He won't be cowed, he's not about to be scared of a backwater chantry mother, and he's not giving up on Bull, either. 

“Whatever you want to say. You obviously have some sort of problem with me. So, let's hear it. Why pretend to be friends when we're not?” He laughs bitterly at that, shaking his head. He can tell a few people are looking at them curiously now, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. He won't make a scene, despite how much he wants to.

Not when Bull or one of his boys could pay the price.

“I do not have a problem with you.”

“Well, that's a lie if I've ever heard one.”

“You are of Tevinter, and that unnerves me, yes. But it is not my place to decide who Iron Bull associates with. I simply...” Giselle struggles for words. “Worry about my charges.”

“Your charges?” Dorian arches a brow. What in Thedas does that mean?

“How do you think it will look, if word gets out Bull associates with one of your... status. He's had enough trouble being as trusted as he is, for what he is. I do not want to bar him entry from this holy place, not when he is so needed by one of my charges.” Giselle raises her own eyebrow back at him. “And I do not wish one of my friends harm.”

“I assure you I mean neither him nor the boy any harm.”

“Yet that does not mean you will not cause them any.”

“Well, that's true enough.” Dorian gives her a mock bow. “I suppose we shall just have to see how things go, won't we?”

“I suppose we must. If you'll excuse me? Evening services are about to begin. Should you wish, you are welcome to come along.” 

“...With all that you've said, you would allow that?” 

“It is the Makers duty to judge, not mine.” With that said, Mother Giselle gives him a curt bow and walks off towards the gathering brothers and sisters. 

Dorian watches as she leaves, biting backing a retort about how she was doing a lovely job judging all the same. It doesn't matter in the end, and Bull's opinion is the one he cares about. As well as his boys, he supposes. By proxy, anyway.

That in mind, he heads towards the back of the chantry. Surely Bull has gotten the boy out by now.

~

A brother makes a motion with his hand, pointing at his eyes with two fingers then back at Dorian's face, to let him know he's watching him. Still the brother lets him in the back after Dorian nods. A bit anti-climatic really. 

He's greeted by a large, open room lined in desks and tables. Books are strewn about, like the readers had left without picking up. Half of the room is taken up by various knick-knacks; balls, jump rope; making him suppose this must be the designated play/study area.

This chantry isn't the poorest he's ever seen, no. But all the same Dorian can tell they're not well off either. Everything has a beaten up, second hand look to it. He's come to know that look rather well in the past year. Still, everything is fairly clean despite the clutter and nothing looks dangerous. Although why he cares is beyond him.

Now, where is Iron Bull? There's only two exits to the room, and seeing as he just came from one, he heads down the other. It leads to a long hallway with two doors in the middle. Peeking in them shows him the showers/rest areas, so he continues on. Ah, finally.

The last area must be where the children sleep; it's lined with doors, a few open to reveal beds inside. As well as toys, clothing, and personal effects tossed every which way, but it's the door at the furthest end he's interested in. He can see a familiar figure sitting down inside that one. A lanky, blond teen is sitting in his lap.

Dorian stalls a moment, biting his lip as he considers what next to do. He's got a funny feeling he's being tested, but that could just be his patented Pavus paranoia. Which has served him well over his life, so he's not about to write it off.

Well, he used to brag that he never needed to study for tests, back when his grades didn't really matter, and status got him through life. Time to see if that's still true. He walks towards the door, careful to think nonthreatening thoughts. Maybe that will translate into his manner. It's a long shot, but still. One has to try.

Bull looks up as he gets near, alerted by the sound of his feet against the tiled floor no doubt. He studies Dorian for a bit, then nods, scooting over on the bed. The blond teen; Grim he supposes; straightens his back and snarls at him before receiving a light cuff on the arm from Bull.

“Hey, none of that. This is Dorian, he's a bit funny and weird but he's a sweetheart when you get down to it.” Bull rubs at Grim's arm though Dorian's sure there's no way that had hurt. Still; considering the teens black eye and assorted bruises, it can't hurt to make sure.

“I...” Completely unsure how to act here, Dorian considers his next words carefully. Bull said Grim was nonverbal, but the gaze peering out from under Bull's chin is sharp with intelligence. Dorian remembers what it was like to be a child, then later a teen; and be talked down to. He'd hated it.

So he decides to treat Grim how he would've liked to have been treated, and go from there. It's all he can do. 

“I resent and I suppose resemble that remark. Just don't tell anyone, alright?” Dorian winks at the teen, voice trembling more then he'd like. Blasted nerves. “So is Giselle like that with everyone, or am I just lucky?” 

Grim grunts at that, and as best Dorian can tell it's an amused sound. Since it's followed by a half-laugh, he supposes he guessed right. He offers the teen a smile and receives one in return. Grim nods at him.

“Ah, Gis is alright. She'll warm up to you in time. Can't ever say she doesn't help people who need it, either.” Bull smiles at them and strokes Grim's back.

Grim grunts again, waving a hand back and forth as if to argue with Bull, but then he begrudgingly nods and shrugs.

“Quite. So, you're Grim?” 

A nod. 

“I'm the illustrious Dorian Pavus, do hold your applause.”

A confused look.

“Yes well there should be applause. Always act like you deserve it, I say. The world becomes much more fun if you imagine people applauding when you enter a room.” As opposed to when you exit it, but he keeps that bit to himself. “Ah - I believe the Ferelden equivalent is 'Fake it until you make it'? I prefer my saying better. Less uncouth.”

A smirk, followed by a punch to Bull's chest as Grim nods at Dorian and smiles. It looks slightly frightening on his beaten up face. Still, Bull looks pleased, so Dorian figures he must've passed the Grim test.

“Alright you two. Want some hot chocolate? Gis never minds if I use the kitchen, so I figure we can make a couple mugs and hang out until evening prayers are done.”

Grim clings to Bull's arm at this, eyes closing. Bull frowns, giving him a one armed hug.

“Yeah, I know buddy. I don't wanna leave either.”

Dorian opens his mouth, but there's nothing he can really add to that, so he promptly closes it. Damn but he hopes Felix comes up with something to help out. A few minutes pass with Bull comforting Grim before he thinks of something to say.

“Well... do you suppose they have any spices? I'll show you how we make hot cocoa in Tevinter.”

“You can make hot cocoa?” Bull pauses mid-rub of Grim's back to look at him in concern. Or fear. Dorian's not entirely sure which. A bit of both perhaps?

“It can't be that hard. ...Why are you both looking at each other like that?”

~

“Alright, alright, so it _was_ that hard. You can stop laughing now.” Dorian admits later, a burger halfway to his mouth. They'd stopped by a fast food place on the way back; and while Dorian was raised to view the places and eating in the car with disdain, he can't deny how happy the greasy food is making his stomach.

“I'm not laughing.” Bull laughs again, and takes a deep gulp of his shake, following it by licking his fingers free of fry grease. 

Dorian should really be disgusted. He should. He wants to be. Instead, he finds Bull almost cute. 

“Liar.”

“Sweet of you to try even if it didn't work out.” Bull shrugs, amending his last sentence: “Third batch was halfway to edible.”

“Yes, well, thank you, but you were the only one to drink it.” Even Dorian had had the good sense not to try the smoking container of milk and blackened cocoa. If he wasn't on Giselle's bad side before, he certainly must be now. Bull had made him and Grim clean up, but the smell erm... lingered. 

“Smokiness added some flavor.”

“I'm glad, but it was supposed to be rich and spicy, not smokey.”

“Hey. You'll get it. Gotta break some eggs to make an omelet.”

“Yes well I was making cocoa, not heart killing breakfast food.”

Bull laughs at that, and reaches over to squeeze Dorian's shoulder. Dorian should scold him for touching his clothes with grease covered hands – the sucking which he was _not_ staring at didn't clean them enough, thank you very much – but he just feels warm. 

Shaking his head, he leans down to drop a kiss on Bull's hand. From the faint blush on Bull's cheeks, it's safe to say he's not the only warm one.

Eventually the moment passes, Bull coughs and rubs at one of his horns shyly as he turns away to start the car. Then they're pulling out of the parking lot and off again.

Dorian takes out his phone, just in case. He raises a brow at the missed messages from Felix. He really hadn't expected him to work that fast. Not that he's unhappy about it, he finds himself wanting to help the teen if he can.

'Hey, does the kid have a job? Failing that, could he get one?' The first message reads. Dorian blinks at that, shrugging a little, before asking Bull about it. 

“Uh... normally they don't want the kids to work more then cleaning up or doing other chantry chores, but...” Bull shrugs, considering. “Giselle's been known to help out with the paperwork if there's a good reason for one of her flock to get a job. Why ya ask?”

“Just curious.” 

For all Bull seems unsatisfied by that answer he doesn't press. Dorian converses with Felix through text back and forth awhile, the basis of a plan forming between them. It just might work, but he still doesn't want to get Bull's hopes up. Now to ask another player of this little game...

'Lady Josephine? I hope it's not too late to talk?' He also hopes she won't kill him for texting her on her personal cell. Texting is less formal than calling, but he doesn't want Bull to know about this just yet.

He doesn't have to wait long for a reply, barely a minute passes before his phone chimes.

'Dorian? Is something wrong? You've never texted me before.'

'Not exactly my dear. How did the new hire go?'

'Lackluster. Dorian. Why?'

'So you might say we still need some help around the store?'

'If you know someone who isn't too rowdy, I could be persuaded to hire on a friend of yours, yes. But I expect more details tomorrow, as well as a muffin.'

'Josie. You can get free muffins any time you like, you're the boss.'

'Yes but they taste better when offered as bribes. Humor me.'

Dorian shakes his head at that. Part one of the plan seems set, Josie won't take much convincing for all the airs she's putting on. Putting his phone away with a smile, he allows himself the faintest of hopes.

~

Bull drums on the steering wheel after parking in the buildings lot. It's obvious he's burning to ask Dorian what the questions and the texting was all about, and Dorian has to bite his lip to keep from telling him. Only the knowledge that this might not work, followed by the thought of that broken look returning once more, keeps him quiet. He won't do that to Bull. 

“Well... much as I'd like to come up...” Bull grins at him, follows it with one of his slow, deliberate winks. “Get you to cash that check of yours... I'd better head home. The sitter I hired is a good guy, but he gets easily overwhelmed. Boys will be annoyed I missed pizza night and taking it out on him.”

“I understand. Thank you, Bull. While I wish it had been under better circumstances, tonight was... pleasant. Almost like a second date.” Dorian chuckles, and Bull joins in.

“About that...” Bull suddenly looks nervous. “Er... d'you want to... I don't know, maybe come over tomorrow night? Do our planned dinner date?” 

“That would be lovely.” Dorian's surprised to find he means it. Shaking his head at himself, he leans over for a goodnight kiss before exiting the van. It's sweet and gentle, and he sighs when they have to pull apart. “Sleep well, Bull.”

All in all, Dorian thinks as he heads up the stairs to his apartment, things are turning out rather well. If Grim accepted him, the rest of Bull's children won't be that much harder to impress. Bull will keep him from killing anyone with his cooking, and while he doubts they'll be able to sneak away for some sex while he's there, he finds he doesn't really mind.

Oh the sex was fantastic don't get him wrong. He'd like a repeat of that wonderful night. He'd very much like a repeat... minus the accidents and the rain, at least. It's just... being around Bull is nice to, and if he has to schedule it around their busy lives and Bull's boys? He'll take it.

His good mood falls when he reaches his floor and spies his door open. Heart hammering in his chest, he calls forth lightning to his hands. Fire might take the whole building down, and ice melts; causing water damage. The place has enough issues as it is without him adding to it.

Blasted, blighted, pissing, just, _fuck_. Dorian should have known. He should have _fucking_ known. Of course when things are beginning to look up, his father's here to ruin it all. Well, he's not going to run. Not this time.

“Alright, I've had just about enough of ...you?” 

The lightning crackles out with a pop, leaving his hair uncomfortably frazzled. Dorian blinks at the sight before him. He closes his eyes. Opens them. Repeats this action.

Despite all this, the sight before him remains the same. Three children are in his apartment. Three children have _broken into_ his apartment.

There's a small elf girl peeking out from under his bed. She's holding his staff, and - is that a set of lock-picks on her belt? A dwarven boy looks out from his closet, eyes wide. Dorian's clothes have been thrown all over the floor. They have wrinkles now.

He's distracted from his ire by the sight on his counter. A boy of about ten, perhaps? Perches atop it, glaring. The boy has brown hair cropped short to his head, and Dorian would recognize those cheekbones anywhere – kid's from Tevinter for sure. Said kid folds his arms over his chest as he puffs it out, as if to say he's not even remotely afraid of Dorian.

Dorian pulls his phone from his pocket and carefully selects Bull from his contacts. The phone rings awhile before being picked up.

“Dorian, look, I can't talk right now, I've gotta find my boys, I-” There's sounds of frantic babbling in the background, someone trying to explain what happened. Bull's nervous sitter no doubt.

“Yes... About that...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I really can't thank Star enough for all her help on this story. It's not just betaing, it's brainstorming, cheering me on, telling me when something doesn't work, suggestions when I'm stuck, when I need to cut myself some slack, all of it. She's amazing. I'm sure I sound like a broken record, but thank you so much friendo.
> 
> Also, thanks to Shae for the cheer-leading. Look ma, I wrote porn.
> 
> Oh yeah if you want to skip that or go straight to it it's in the last bit. Enjoy.

Dorian folds his arms over his chest, too baffled to be annoyed. Of all the ways he'd pictured tonight ending, this was not among them. He'd imagined a shower perhaps, maybe a quick session with his hand, some music, a little more research into Felix's plan, a glass of wine he shouldn't have bought – oh wait. 

He's not about to spend the money Hawke paid him all at once, but he can afford a few bottles of wine now without yelling at himself. Maybe even some beauty products he desperately needs...

His mind's wandering. Proof of his, well, flustered mood, for lack of a better term. He's barely even registered Krem – Cremisius talking on the phone to his adoptive father, after Dorian handed over the phone to prove to Bull it wasn't an elaborate prank. Although gathering from the look on the boys face, Cremisius probably wishes it had been.

So. Not the way he'd planned on ending the night, no. Not by a long shot. But... at least he has faces to go with the names. The dwarf, looking oddly guilty now as he attempts to straighten up Dorian's clothes (and Dorian really should stop him, he's getting them _wrinkled_ ) must be Rocky. That makes the little elf girl glaring hatefully at him Skinner. She may only be a tart of a girl, but he can see that she deserves that moniker. 

In reality, her age makes it all the more terrifying. Dorian really doesn't want to see her anger turned on himself, especially seeing as how he wants this thing with Bull to go somewhere, but. 

“My staff, please.” He holds his hand out for the item clutched to the girls chest. Despite his better sense screaming at him to let her have it. Dorian still has pride, after all.

And something tells him it's not a good idea to let these three walk all over him. Nor is it his place to punish them: As far as he can see, nothing is really damaged, just out of place. As for the lock... well... 

“As fascinating as this evening has been... might I ask what you three were hoping to find? Young Lady, my staff. I will not ask again.” His voice is stern, not angry. He spares a moment to wonder about his lack of fury, but tosses it aside. 

He'd been ready to fight his father or one of his men, yet faced with three prepubescents, found the anger evaporating like so much smoke. Dorian shakes his head to rid himself of the image.

Skinner hands over the staff with an annoyed little foot stomp, and Dorian takes it from her to lean against as he studies the three of them.

“Well?” He asks once Cremisius appears done with his phone, and sets it on the counter. “Nothing to say for yourselves?”

“Mind control.” Skinner kicks at the ground again, and Dorian might care if it wasn't a shit hole of an apartment. But it is, so he says nothing about her childish tantrum. She is, after all, a child.

“I... what?” Dorian blinks, leaning heavier on his staff.

“Had to make sure you weren't mind controlling Da - the Chief.” Rocky pipes up from where he's just finished putting Dorian's clothes back. Dorian will have to do it again, the boy's done a terrible job.

“'Swhat you Altus bastards do, isn't it?” Cremisius, if anything, seems to puff out his chest even more as he speaks. But Dorian can see the way the boy trembles just so. “With your fuh-fucking, blood magic!”

Wonderful. Even children are certain he's a practitioner in the dark arts infamous to his homelands. With a sigh, Dorian brushes his hair out of his face and pinches his temple. “I assure you, I do not have your 'chief' under any sort of spell. We're... seeing each other of our own freewill.”

The three look at him with varying degrees of suspicion, and Dorian can tell this isn't an argument he'll win without a lot of preparation, so he lets it go for now. 

“Your chief will be here shortly. I think Sera left some soda or juice or something in my fridge. It's sugary, at any rate.” He crosses over to his mini-fridge to open it. The children only watch as he pulls out three cans of – they can chocolate milk now, do they? Odd. 

Dorian hands them out to the children, who look at him with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. He sighs again.

“I haven't poisoned them. Look, I'll have one to.” He takes one from the mini-fridge for himself, opens it, and chugs it in one go. The milk is promptly spat out on his floor. “Oh that's ghastly... that is _not_ chocolate and there's far too much sugar – no wonder Sera likes it.” That last part is said in a rush, as he goes to the sink to wash his mouth out.

He can hear the children laughing at him as he gargles with water and counts his blessings. At least they didn't take it as he did in fact poison the beverage after all. 

The next few minutes pass with him looking at the children, and them looking back as they drink their canned, chocolate, “milk”. They're still suspicious, but not hostile. Dorian will take it. 

Oh but he's tired. Today has been a day, hasn't it? Going back to work, getting a new job, the entire thing with Grim, and now this. He's used more mana in the past nin hours than he has in a year. It's a blessing that his door's still open from where Skinner picked the lock, and he doesn't have to deal with Bull pounding on it. He's not sure his head could take it. 

Instead Bull just walks in, squeezes Dorian's shoulder, and then turns to look at his boys. Each one gets a look in turn, some sort of silent communication passing between them in a language Dorian has yet to decipher. Finally Bull's gaze settles on Cremisius, and the boy ducks his head. 

“They didn't actually harm anything.” Dorian shrugs, unsure why he's trying to defend the little hoodlums. “This is far from the best building, and if it was that easy to break in, well. I suppose I'll consider it a lesson in home security.”

Bull's face screws up at that, and he reaches over to feel Dorian's brow. Dorian lets himself lean into that big, strong hand. He's not sick, but _oh_. It's nice to feel the rough calluses against his face.

“Yeah, but – but um, it's still not good.” There's a new voice, and Dorian finds himself stepping back to get a better look at the speaker. It's a young qunari around his age, probably a little younger from how nervous he appears. He's broad of shoulder like most of his race, with swooping back horns, and uneven piercings decorating his face. He also seems inordinately fond of purple make up. 

The man notices him looking, and rubs nervously at his neck. “Hi. This is kind of my fault – I'm Kryss Adaar, Bull's babysitter. I'm so so sorry! They said they needed help with homework, something about leaf collecting, which is weird because it's summer but I thought maybe I just forgot and doesn't school start earlier and earlier every year? But I couldn't let them go out to get leaves alone, it was way too dark, and Skinner was scared, and-” 

Oh Dorian just bets she was scared. The little shits had played this Kryss guy well and good. He's honestly sort of impressed.

“Kryss – Hey, kid. Breathe.” Bull cuts off the babble with a roll of his eye. “I'm not mad at you, should've known not to let you babysit alone after the laundry debacle. But I gotta deal with this. Just, just...” Bull sighs and shakes his head. “Go wait in the hall.” 

Kryss shuffles off into the hall at that, head bowed and shoulders shaking. Dorian's annoyed at himself for the concern he feels – bastards naivete got his apartment trashed, after all. 

“Now. All three of you are grounded for a week – and when Dorian comes over for dinner tomorrow, you'd better be on your best behavior. Now, march!” Bull waits until his boys grumble but begin to leave the room before turning to Dorian, all trace of anger gone. “We're still on for that, right?”

Dorian shakes his head, and reaches up to place his fingers on Bull's lips as the mans face falls. “I'm not canceling. Only bemused at how fast they listen to you.”

He feels Bull smile beneath his fingers, and pulls them away so he can lean up on tip toe to kiss him. It's longer then it should be, if the annoyed huffs he can hear are any indication. Dorian keeps it going just a moment longer because of them, until they're both breathless.

Bull doesn't say anything as he turns to leave. Only brings his own fingers up to his lips, a dazed but happy look in his eye as he follows after his children. It's more than a little amusing to see a four hundred pound giant look like he's floating on air, but Dorian finds himself giving a soft, fond nod at the sight.

Alright, so Bull probably doesn't weigh that much, but math was always Felix's specialty, not his. 

Soon enough the qunari, and his gaggle of children, make their way down the hall to the stairs. Dorian watches as they leave, then turns back to clean up the mess.

“Ah...may I help? I mean it's kinda my fault. 'Course if you don't want me around 'cause of that, I totally get it.” 

Dorian starts, glancing over to the side. Oh, Kryss is still in the hall. He wonders what it says about him that he completely forgot about the other qunari and became so focused on Bull. Probably something sappy and foolish. So that's enough of that thought.

“...Kryss, was it?”

“Yeah, that's me. You're Dorian Pavus, right? My sister's talked about you before – Ah, she'd be Taash, Sera's girlfriend. Not that I'm a creepy stalker or anything! You made a good impression on her is all, or rather her girlfriend, and um, wow I'm making this worse aren't I?” Kryss takes a deep breathe then, the first Dorian's seen him take all evening. It's a wonder the boy doesn't faint with the way he talks. 

“I really am very sorry. I, that is, usually my boyfriend – Nari – oh I don't need to tell you about him, I'm babbling again sorry sorry – point is, usually he's with me when I babysit them. He was supposed to be tonight, Bull doesn't trust me with them alone after the time I turned all the laundry pink, even the darks – babbling again! Right!” Kryss nervously shuffles from foot to foot. “This is my fault, this mess. Can I help you clean up? ...Please?”

Dorian folds his arms over his chest. Kryss runs a hand through the strip of blond hair on his head, and gives him a shaky smile. Dorian sighs, and nods towards the mess. Kryss lets out a loud cheer, then catches himself, his hands coming to his mouth as his eyes go wide. 

“Ha. You seem like a man who understands how to take care of good clothing. Start by undoing what Rocky did to mine while I fix my bed, and just maybe I'll forgive you.” 

Ferelden's made him soft. So very, very soft. Or perhaps Dorian finds himself wanting a friend of his own gender he doesn't have to call or text to talk to. He is, after all, lacking in the male companionship part of his life.

Platonic companionship, at any rate. From the way Kryss is talking about anything and everything under the sun, he doubts that will be an issue for much longer. Lucky Dorian. He can practically feel himself jump for joy.

Well, at least Ferelden's never boring. Soft, but exciting. And isn't that a contradiction in terms.

~

Kryss's babble still rings in his head the next morning as he heads into work, and Dorian dearly hopes Josephine will let him take the afternoon shift next work period. He's never been a man built for the earlier hours, and damn it but he's going to make two pots of coffee, call it part of catching up from his break. 

Of course, his plans to spend a quiet morning staring out at customers from his desk are brought to ruin the moment Josie finishes her bribery muffin. Which he still can't believe he got suckered into. Really, Dorian must be losing his touch. 

“So... this 'friend' of yours that needs a job...” Josie perches on his desk, crosses her legs prim and neat, but the illusion drops when she turns to him, mischief plain on her face. “It's not Sera is it? Because the only way I'll consider hiring her is if she works off the damages first.” She huffs at that, and Dorian rolls his eyes but decides against reminding her that she already took damages out of his paycheck.

He's a little miffed at Sera over that too. 

“No, it's not Sera.” Dorian laughs at the relieved sigh Josie lets out, and shakes his head. As fun as it is to banter back and forth with her, he's grateful they've both let down their masks. If this tutoring business works out, he won't be here too much longer and he'd like to keep her as a friend. “It's like this...”

He explains everything. Admittedly, he doesn't know much, but he wants to help Bull and because of that, help Grim. So he lays out every detail of Felix's plan, then sighs when he realizes it's a flimsy one.

“I don't even know if Mother Giselle will go for it. I'm not exactly her favorite person. …and I realize it's a lot to ask, Lady Josephine.” The title isn't playful this time, instead Dorian says it mournfully, at a loss over what to do. 

“I'm sure her opinion of you is no fault of your own.” Cassandra's voice, dry and amused floats out from behind a bookcase. 

Dorian starts at hearing it, and stands up straight as she walks into view. She's out of her uniform; loose slacks and a tank top which shows off her broad arms. A button down shirt is tied around her waist. Dorian has a suspicious feeling Josie has something to do with her ensemble. 

They look at each other nervously at first, until Dorian bites the bullet and offers her a smile which doesn't quite reach his eyes. She nods at him in return. It doesn't quite make up for almost getting him deported, but it's a start. They're going to have to learn to deal with each other, since they're both around Josephine frequently, and... well. 

Fuck it, he misses her. She gets so pissed off at just a little teasing. It's hilarious.

“Cassandra.” He nods back, shakes his head a little, letting his smile reach his eyes now. “No, I think she has something against 'Vint's'. Can't imagine why, we're all such shining examples of person-hood. I myself among the best.”

“Doubtless.” Cassandra's eyebrows climb almost into her hair as she shakes her head at his antics. 

Josephine looks back and forth between them, and Dorian can see the way her leg vibrates with excitement. Oh, she'd definitely set this whole thing up. Sneaky little woman.

“But it is not a bad plan,” Cassandra continues on, walking towards them. “And I believe, with the right person presenting a case to her, she would be willing to work with us. So, step one, get the young man a job here. Step two - ” She continues on to the part of the plan Dorian's going to tackle once he gets home, but he doesn't listen, too bewildered by what he's just heard.

Wait. Us? There was an us now?

“When you say the right person...” 

“I mean myself of course. I am a Seeker, so I do a little of everything. I must admit I do not often work with the lower chantry's, but, I have dealt with her before. She is a sensible woman.” Cassandra shrugs then, and sighs. “If not as strict in her followings of the law. Sometimes she has good reasons for that.”

“I'll go with you. I do need to see the young man for myself, and see if he'd like to be my employee.” Josephine giggles, and hops off the desk to straighten her skirts. “Even if your plan doesn't work, I could use a new worker. Yesterdays performance was just...” She shudders.

“I...” Dorian smiles, hope filling him. “Thank you. Both of you. And you're not going to hear that from me often, so you'd best treasure it.” 

The two women look at him with what can only be described as 'Duh'. Dorian blames Sera for his knowledge of that word, and they spend the rest of his shift plotting, sometimes with input from Felix via text.

They may just pull this off.

~

Dorian supposes he can't be blamed for pausing at seeing his door open when he gets home a little before dinner. His luck may have improved lately, but with how horrid it has been in only recent past, he won't knock himself for a little bit of caution. 

Caution which goes out the window at seeing Sera sitting on his counter, the last can of chocolate milk in her right hand, a bag of popcorn in her left. Amazing, seeing as how he doesn't keep the stuff in supply. He's too worried about it getting stuck in his teeth unawares.

He doesn't bother scolding her as he lets himself in, only gives her a questioning look as he tosses his bag on his bed and kicks the door closed behind him. She returns it with two fingers raised towards him and tongue covered in half chewed food.

“Mine broke.” Sera shoves another handful of popcorn in her mouth, swallows it down with some milk. “What'd you do with my cans? Thought you were too good fer 'em?” She raises hers and shakes it at him.

“I had one yesterday and I can say with utmost sincerity that I am in fact too good for them. Those are disgusting.” Dorian doesn't look at her as he tugs off his coat. 'It's been a warm summer' his ass. 

“You drink microwave coffee.”

“That's different. That's... a necessity.” 

“Rrrrroight.” Sera crunches and munches her way through the word, so it takes Dorian a few minutes to parse it.

He rolls his eyes when he does. It _is_ different, it isn't as though he likes the stuff. He hasn't been able to justify a coffee pot is all; not when he can mooch coffee from work, and dinner out more often then not meant a calorie laden coffee over actual food.

“If you're going to stay, make yourself useful.” Dorian tosses one pile of clothes at her, followed by another. Neither is among his two good pairs, no. Like he'd risk them to popcorn or spilled milk.

Instead they're ensembles he feels won't stain easily; since Bull said pizza and children and... he should probably plan a trip to the laundromat on the first floor tomorrow anyway. 

Sera, to her credit, catches them both. She follows this up by staring at him, her jaw moving as she swallows another mouthful of popcorn. It's like the blighted bag is endless. 

“The blue one, or the green one?”

“Yer asking me about fashion? You gone daft?” Finally she finishes off the bag, crumbles it up, and tosses it into the trash. Seeing as how she then wipes her hands on her shorts, Dorian can only sigh.

“Blue, or green?”

“...Green.”

“Thank you. I'll go with the blue.” 

“Arse.”

“You have popcorn stuck in your teeth you know. Sort of ruins sticking your tongue out at me.” At least she's swallowed her food this time. Small miracles.

“Double arse.”

Chuckling, Dorian grabs the blue pile before heading off to the bathroom. Ideally he'd prefer another hour to prepare, but he'll manage the best he can. Due to Sera's disgust with the male form, particularly his male form; he has no worry about her being there while he showers.

So it's to his surprise that she's still there when he comes out, hair dripping wet. At least he's already clothed.

“Huh. Look weird w' floppy hair.” 

“Yes well despite my best efforts, I do have to work at looking this good.”

Sera snorts, and Dorian finds his annoyance fading. It's just Sera. He'll know if she's ever really pissed off at him. She's probably just bored, and he hasn't really hung out with her in the past few days. Not that he's going to ask her if she's lonely.

That, and...

“...Much as this pains me to ask, I feel I must.” Dorian takes a deep breath as Sera leans in, head cocked to the side. “...Do you have any advice for meeting Bull's boys? Well. Meeting them again. Little shits broke in last night, but I'm gracious enough to not hold it against them.”

“You talk so weird, ya know that right?” Sera rolls her eyes. 

“Quite.” This coming from an elf he only understands half the time. Well, three fourths of the time, but he's not about to tell her that. “...Nothing then?”

Perhaps it's a bit pathetic that he needs a friendly pep-talk before every date with Bull. Surely no man is worth this? Alright, that's a lie. Dorian knows damn well Bull is worth it. 

And really, this is only the second date. His first adviser was Mae, and seeing as how he's following her up with Sera, it's not like he's asking to be coddled or anything. No, brutal honesty has always been his thing. At least where it matters. Like with Bull.

Sera's studying him, arms crossed over her chest. Her foot's tapping out a rhythm on the side of his counter, and when she reaches some unheard note, she nods.

“Just be you. Kid's'll make fun of you, yeah? Already broke in, testin' ya. Be all unflappable Ser Pavus, but not all snooty tooty hoity toity and shite. Just... be Dorian, the fun arsehole. 'Cept maybe less cursing. Bull gets all pissy if they repeat it.”

“That was... oddly mature for you.”

“I know, right? Scary like.” Sera grins at him. Dorian finds himself grinning back. 

Sera promptly ruins the moment by vaulting to her feet, and messing up his hair as she runs out of the door. There's droplets of water from his hair covering his shoulders now, and he should be annoyed, but instead only laughs.

Maybe he should give her the spare key, but somehow he doubts that would stop her from picking the lock.

It is then that Dorian has the epiphany that Bull's boys are quite lucky that Sera's thoroughly abused him of silly notions like the right to privacy. He'd thought he was giving in too easily, and here it turns out he's accustomed to it. Huh.

At any rate, he needs to finish preparing for tonight. There's only thirty minutes or so before he's scheduled to be there.

~

Well, here Dorian is. In front of the door of Bull's place, one hand raised in the air. About to knock on the door. So nervous he wonders if his lunch is about to come back up for a visit. 

Life. It's so very fun. 

Swallowing, he turns to look behind him. The garden's doing well, and he can see the plant Bull took back sitting out on a bench. It's leaves are turned toward the setting sun, it's color still a little dull but even he can tell it looks better than it was when he had it.

This makes him glance up to where his apartment is. In reality he knows there's no way he can make out the smaller calla lily in his windowsill. Still, it's comforting to imagine that he can, and the way it's prospered under him. With careful attention to detail and Bull's 'cheat sheet' of course. But it's mostly Dorian's care, and that's all that matters in the end.

Right. He can do this. Just be himself. Right.

Like that's any kind of advice.

Dorian knocks three times on the door before he can talk himself out of it, then steps back and does his best to appear confident and cool, hands at his sides, a hip cocked out. The smile on his face when Bull opens the door is real however.

“Big guy!” Bull grins back at him, and steps back to let him in the door. Dorian gladly follows, and lets himself be lead inside.

The house is... pretty nice, really. As eclectic inside as it is out: various bits and baubles everywhere. A sort of organized clutter; weights stacked to one end of what he can only assume is the living room, childrens balls and jump ropes piled nearby. Little pink figurines everywhere, more yo-yo's than Dorian has ever seen in his life, fake swords, baseball bats, all stacked relatively neatly.

Scrolls hang from the walls; Dalish in pattern, as well as a few posters of sports teams and photographs in frames. He's fairly sure he sees a few art... things that he recognizes Sera's hand in, including a miniature metal bull; likely a test of the larger sculpture outside.

Lead from that room, and into the next, Dorian blinks as they come to a stop in what he supposes is the entertainment center. The room's lined in shelves, books filling them, even more figurines a top, with a big solid desk in one corner. There's a large screen tv hanging from one wall, and pressed against the other are a couch and love-seats, as well as a few beanbag chairs.

Sitting on them, in various degrees of remorse or anger, are Bull's boys. Bull coughs as they come to a stop in front of them.

“Pretty sure you all have somethin' to say to Dorian, right boys?” Bull looks at them, one hand on his hip. Not like he's about to promise pain if they don't obey, but more like he'll be disappointed if they don't. 

It's a tactic that never worked on Dorian as a child. So it's to his wonderment that three mumbled apologies fill the air.

“Didn't quite hear that.” Ah. There go Bull's arms, crossing over his chest as he gives them a hard stare.

“Sorry.” Rocky sighs out as he slumps backwards in his seat, until he's laying flat on the couch, his legs hanging off the side. He grumbles a while before continuing on. “Sorry, okay? It was Krem's idea.”

“And you still took part of it.” Bull shakes his head, eye rolling towards the ceiling.

“Said sorry!”

“Sorry as well, I guess.” Skinner pipes up again, shrugging her shoulders. She picks at a lose seam on the cushions awhile, studying Dorian. “You didn't have anything but weird magazines under your bed and the staff.”

Ah. Well. There goes Dorian's dignity, right out the window. He coughs, looking away, cheeks burning even more at the dark cackle from Cremisius and the whisper of 'Pervert'.

“Krem.” Bull's voice is a warning tone.

“Right, sorry. Still think you're bad news, but said I'd give you a chance so I will. ...And sorry about your door, but your locks are shit. Didn't even need Skinner's picks, could use paper clips on them.” Cremisius kicks his feet against the couch as he tries to look unashamed. 

Bull sighs, and shakes his head, but doesn't try to get him to apologize further. Dorian doesn't ask for one either, only laughs.

Just be you. Okay, he can do that.

“Yes well, I can't say I'm pleased, but...” Dorian shrugs, a little annoyed at himself that he doesn't really care about the break in. “Nothing was stolen or broken, so I think we can let bygones be bygones.” 

Bull gives him a look like 'Really?' at that but doesn't say anything to argue. “Right. Okay boys, get to the kitchen and start setting things out. I'm going to talk to Dorian a minute first.”

The children moan and groan but do as they're told.

“And don't mess with the knives either! Goes double for you, Skinner!” Bull calls after them once they're in the kitchen, before he turns to Dorian, and his demeanor changes. Where before he'd been firm and unyielding, now he's almost nervous as he reaches up to scratch at a horn. “Ah... we good?”

“Yes, you oaf.” Dorian laughs, reaching up to pull Bull down by his horns for a kiss. He traces Bull's teeth with his tongue, treasures the feel of rough scars against his own soft lips. Pulling away to pant, he grins up at him with hooded eyes. “We're good. It's not like that was the first time my place has been broken into. Or the second, or the third. I stopped counting sometime around the fifth, actually.”

Bull's eye darkens at that, and he opens his mouth to say something before Dorian silences him with another kiss.

“Before you worry: Sera.” 

Bull nods, his own eye half closed. He takes a deep breath, and pulls away from Dorian with reluctance. 

“Better not keep them waiting, or they really will get into the knives.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You'd think they'd learn after the first time they cut themselves they're risking losing fingers, but no.”

“True, what with how they have you as living proof.” At Bull's confused look, Dorian reaches for his mauled hand and runs a finger over the missing digits. “However you lost these, I'm sure they and the eye would make for wonderful cautionary tales, if you so chose.”

Briefly he wonders if he's offended, from the way Bull goes quiet. Perhaps he needn't have been quite that much himself.

“Eye wouldn't work. Krem saw me lose that one.” 

There's nothing Dorian can say to that, so he nods.

“Good idea on the fingers, 'fraid it's a little late though.” Bull grins at Dorian, letting him know there's no harm done. “The eye's... kinda part of why Krem's a bit touchy around 'Vint's. It's not 'cause you're a man, probably mostly 'cause I'm dating you, but.” He shrugs, the sentence hanging.

“I had gathered that he has issues with Alti. Most Soporati do.” Dorian shrugs back, nodding his head. “I can't say that I blame them.”

He could and he would and he _should_ , as they seem to blame Dorian for being an Altus. Like it's his fault they were born without magic. Although... although he'll try, in this case. Because he wants to keep seeing Bull, and he's well aware that making peace with his boys is part of that.

“Although if you could convince him that I'm not a blood mage, I would appreciate it.”

“I'll try. C'mon, we'd better get in there, I hear metal clanking and I'd rather not have to make a trip to the ER.”

“Yes, let's try to keep our second date blood free, shall we?”

Bull laughs and throws his arm around Dorian's shoulder, leading him into the kitchen. It turns out they are a little late, Skinner does in fact have the knives out. But luckily she appears to know how to use them, so they manage a better start to this date then the first.

At least until Rocky throws a tomato.

~

Foodfight aside, they manage to have a pleasant dinner of homemade pizza, salad, and a couple of pies that baked while they ate. Turns out that while Dorian may detest greasy, nasty pizza when ordered from one of the many places that line the streets, he enjoys it well enough when it's cooked from scratch.

Even if he does have tomato in his hair. Maybe he'll start a new beauty regimen, see if it takes off. Tomatoes instead of shampoo, there's a laugh.

The children... well, they don't exactly warm to him per say. But Rocky's intrigued by the water spell Dorian performs, small and tiny, but enough to pay him back for the vegetable decorations adoring him. Like a water balloon without the balloon, he says.

Skinner takes something of a shine to him after he lifts her up, to help her reach Bull's head with a bit of well thrown lettuce and onion. Bull for his part handles it well enough, mock growling back at them as he fakes a charge, horns down. 

At least Dorian hopes he's faking...

Cremisius... Krem. Krem'll take longer to... not exactly befriend, but at least achieve apathy with. Dorian's not stupid in that regard. But he thinks they may have made a start, once the five of them are back in the living room, watching a movie and the boy sits next to him. Albeit with his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Since they're allowed to stay up late and watch a movie because he's here, Dorian supposes that he merits some tolerance.

He knows he should probably head home. It's getting late, and there's little chance the condoms and lube he has tucked into his back pockets will see any use tonight. Not that he'd really thought so while getting ready, but one always hopes.

Yet he finds himself helping Bull march the children into the bathroom off the main hall. Between the two of them, they have the children in a line soon enough, with toothbrushes out. Bull even gives Dorian one of his own, and while he may feel a trifle silly joining in on this communal dental hygiene ritual, he still does.

He should leave then, he really should. But it's easy to offer help getting them changed for bed, though he sticks to Skinner and Rocky, which is just as well. Cremisius – Krem, he really must remember to use the boys proper name – Krem apparently has issues being naked in front of other people, more so than normal. He can tell there's a story there but doesn't press. 

Dorian's better suited here; telling Rocky that his firework pajamas are 'cool', and helping tie back Skinner's long hair. Some how he manages to get suckered into telling them a story.

It's hard to imagine that he used to be a bad boy when he was younger, with the way he's tucking small children into bed. Oh well.

Once they're all in tucked in safe and sound, Bull and Dorian head out to the porch to talk quietly.

“This was surprisingly enjoyable.” Dorian keeps his voice soft, lest he wakes them. He's taken aback by how much he cares.

“Yeah... it was.” Bull smiles down at him, his own voice whisper quiet. He cocks his head towards the house, and Dorian can see his lips move as he appears to count to thirty. Then he grins, and shoots Dorian a heated look.

Curious, Dorian leans in to see if he can figure out what's up. 

“They're asleep.” Bull chuckles, careful to be quiet all the same. 

“Yes, well... good...” Dorian shifts from foot to foot, almost nervously. Which is ridiculous because he is _not_ nervous. “I'll just... head out, shall I?”

“If you want.” Bull shrugs, reaching out to touch his shoulder. His hand travels up to Dorian's face, until Dorian's resting his cheek in the broad palm. “You don't have to. Can spend the night, if you'd like.”

Dorian offers Bull a smirk. “Oh? And is sleeping all we'll be doing?”

“Up to you.” Bull nods back to the house, smirking himself as he adds; “Depends on how quiet you can be.”

~

Bull walks him backwards through the house, the two of them kissing all the while. They're both careful to be quiet, neither wanting the kids to see them like this... well, Dorian might not care as much as Bull does, having been caught by multiple people in the past, and kept on going, but... either way, his heart pounds in his ears and he swears their breaths whenever they pull apart are as loud as thunderclaps.

Still, no one stirs when Bull opens the door to his bedroom, and pushes Dorian back against the bed. Dorian falls onto it with a soft woof, his legs hanging off the side. It's followed by a laughter as Bull crouches over him, and they lock lips and rub up against either so much he has a fleeting worry he'll come in his pants like a school boy.

He wonders if Bull would take that as a compliment. Then he wonders if he would himself.

“Hey....” Dorian pants out, then moans when Bull carefully reaches down to unzip his pants. It's hard to think after that, with the way Bull's hand wraps around him through his smalls and strokes. Something, he wanted to say something, do something, right? Oh! 

“Bull, wait.” Dorian blinks as Bull sits up on the bed and begins to stand, edging away from him. “I didn't say stop. It's just I believe I have a check to cash.”

Some of Bull's nerves appear to vanish at that, before he sits back on the bed and rubs Dorian's thigh.

“You don't have to. Kinda big, if you've noticed.” He scratches the base of a horn, softly chuckling. “And ah, I like taking care of people. It's fun no matter what, yeah, but.” Bull shrugs. “Sorta just... get off making my partner happy.”

“It's hard not to notice your size, true” Dorian reaches over, rests a palm on the prominent bulge in Bull's pants. He smirks at the moan Bull lets out, and carefully pulls the man's pants down. “And trust me, the idea of this in my mouth? Makes me very, very happy indeed.”

There are words after that, softly spoken in the night, but they're not important. No, what is is this: The two of them, helping each other take off their clothes. Well maybe it's not that sweet or simple; Dorian tugs off Bull's pants, while Bull yanks up Dorian's shirt so fast he's sure he lost a button, which he will dearly complain about tomorrow.

As for right now, though, he's pulling out a condom and ripping the wrapper with his teeth. There's a fun little trick he likes to perform to get it on with his tongue and lips, but eyeing the large, hard cock in front of him has him second guessing himself.

Maker Bull really is huge.

Dorian hungers to have it, to have Bull, inside him. Fuck yes. But he's also smart, and it has been awhile since he's done this. So he slowly, carefully glides the condom onto Bull with his hand, grinning up at him all the while. 

Bull seems to hold his breath, to bite his lip. Dorian takes it as the compliment it is. He's not so sure what to make of the little laugh Bull lets out when Dorian pours flavored lube on the condom. He looks up, brows raised, mouth right above Bull's cock.

“Condoms taste terrible, and I like this strawberry flavor.”

“You could always buy flavored condoms, Big Guy.”  
“...You're bloody huge and I couldn't afford them in this size. I did have to buy a few different sizes, I hadn't seen you naked yet.” A lie. At least the first part is. He's never come across flavored condoms before, and now feels rather silly.

Bull must know, must sense the blush on his face, for Dorian's sure it doesn't show in the dim lighting of the room. A hand reaches out to stroke his cheek, and Dorian finds himself leaning into it.

“Hey. Didn't mean anything by it. 'Scute, Big Guy.”

“I'll show you cute.”

He's not about to try fitting the whole thing in his mouth, no. Instead he takes just the top half, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks Bull in deeper, as deep as he can, while one hand reaches down to stroke the half he doesn't try to take in.

Bull trembles above him as he hums, bobbing his head up and down. He reaches up with his free hand to trail fingers along scarred skin, and receives a low moan for his efforts. He grins around the engorged flesh in his mouth, traces veins through the condom with his tongue.

Dorian gets his hair tugged for that, and he nuzzles up into the hand entangled in his hair, wanting more.

“Like that, do you?” Bull chuckles, entirely too smug. Well, can't have that.

So Dorian lets his hand slip down low, over swollen balls, and presses down gently behind them as he takes the head of Bull's cock into his throat. Fuck but he's drooling and he doesn't care. Spittle gathers along Bull's balls, and helps Dorian as he caresses them between palm and fingers. 

Messy, fast, thrusting: All glorious. He's grateful his moans and cries are muffled by the hot cock stretching his lips, mouth, throat to their limits. Or he'd never remember to be quiet.

He can hear Bull murmuring encouragements interlaced with curses above him. It makes Dorian strive to take him faster, deeper. Soon he has nearly the full length in him, and fuck yes. He's not sure if he thought that or Bull said it. Both, probably.

Like all good things it's over far too soon: Dorian groans as Bull grips his hair tight, words in a strange language – Qunlat perhaps – filling his ears. Then he feels Bull arch his back as he cums down Dorian's throat.

Well, okay, so he has to imagine the thick ropes of cum he wants to swallow. Instead it's more muted, as the condom catches it all. 

Licking his lips after he pulls off, breaking the trail of spit and lube connecting them, Dorian wonders if he can convince Bull to go without next time.

The expected moment of panic for wanting this to be something lasting doesn't come. Curious. He'll have to ponder on that later though.

He's so hard he swears if he were to look down his balls would be blue. Not bothering with lube, he palms himself roughly, knowing it'll sting tomorrow but not caring. Dorian just wants to cum.

Which is thrown out the window when he's picked up.

“Bull?” 

A kiss, Bull's mouth hot against his own, tongue tickling Dorian's gums as he tastes himself. Well, lube and the after taste of a condom, but let a man dream, would you? Dorian smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around that broad, hard yet soft form. He rubs up against a thigh, then releases a rush of breath as he's rolled onto his back, Bull above him.

A hand, now. Slick with lube, wrapping around him. It's almost embarrassing how fast he cums – no, it is embarrassing, but who can blame him? Bull's just so good, stroking up and down, slowly at first then rapidly building until Dorian explodes onto his stomach.

It's only as he pants on the bed that he realizes they forgot a condom for him. But judging from the way Bull laughs, Dorian doubts it's a problem.

Still, Bull gets up, and Dorian soon hears the telltale sounds of water running. He doesn't feel any offense, too lost in a haze of bliss to care.

The bed dips beside him a moment later, and he rolls into Bull's side. He's breathless, gasping for air as he feels Bull clean him off with a wet cloth, which is then thrown to the side.

“That was-”

“Yeah.” Bull kisses him, and whatever else Dorian wants to say is lost as they start again.

Then later, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know, kinda self indulgent to add my main male Adaar to the cast when I've already got my main female Adaar in the story, but this whole thing is self indulgent so fuck it. I do what I want. 
> 
> Also I know the names weird and pretentiously spelled but eh. He's got his reasons for that.
> 
> And yes, the story now has a set chapter count. It may go up a little but I think I've got things pretty well plotted out. As always, you guys are the best.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know, it's been two months all I can say is LIFE HAPPENS, SO MUCH
> 
> As always thank you to Star for looking things over, and my friends for encouragement

“Now, don't get me wrong, I deeply enjoyed last night, but...” Dorian lets out a long, lust-filled sigh as he rubs a soapy sponge over his skin. Stepping back under the warm shower spray, he rubs a hand longingly over the patterned tile of the wall. “I'm dumping you and marrying your shower.”

If Dorian could purr, he would be doing so right now. Bull's walk in shower is a bit crowded with the two of them inside it, but as it's built for a qunari in the first place, it's still the most wonderful thing Dorian has seen in ages. The fact that he doesn't have decent water pressure or heat that lasts for more than three minutes at home probably helps fuel his new crush.

Bull for his part only chuckles at him, and reaches over to help Dorian shampoo his hair. His fingers feel wondrous against Dorian's scalp and maker help him he might _actually_ be purring now.

“Y'know, usually I tell the kids not to use all the hot water, but somethin' tells me they're going to be angry at me for once when they wake up.” Bull doesn't tell him to stop however, just leans closer to drop a kiss to Dorian's soapy skin. 

Of course moments later Bull spits, because, well, soap. Dorian feels like he should be offended but instead he grins up at him. Despite the smell being wrong, the soap being formulated for a different skin type, and the shampoo being a two-in-one deal Bull had found stashed long forgotten under the sink (ah, the merits of baldness), this is near perfect.

It's over far too soon, Bull stepping out to dry himself off while Dorian spends a few more minutes under the wet, warm spray. Then even his admittedly warped sensibilities step in and he reaches up to turn it off with a sigh.

“Ah, don't look so glum, Big Guy.” Bull tosses a towel onto Dorian's head, followed by what he assumes is another but as he can't see he's guessing - “Anytime you want to use this, just come on over.”

Dorian thinks it over for a moment, drying himself off with towels that are mismatched and of course loud patterns, he's not even surprised anymore. He firmly tells himself that he is not growing fond of it however. Oh no. 

“And of course a repeat performance of last night's activities?” Dorian grins at him, pondering if he can convince Bull to do that now. Of course they'd have to shower again, but well. How is that a bad thing?

“If you want. That was fun. But it's not needed, I'm serious Big Guy. Just pop in anytime. Course, I'm not turning future sex _down_ ” Bull winks at him, reaching out to ruffle Dorian's towel against his hair. 

“Don't be surprised when I take you up on it. About the only thing I like about my apartment is the view.” Dorian shrugs, wrapping a towel around his waist once he's fairly dry. He hangs up the other towel on a rod, then steps in front of the mirror with a frown. Despite bringing along condoms and lube, he hasn't planned this well.

He styles his hair as best he can without gel all the same. It'll have to do. Now for the joy of putting on dirty clothes. Dorian's more accustomed to it than he used to be, but it's never pleasant.

Turns out he doesn't have to be, because Bull tosses him a pair of pants and a shirt. Both will swim on him, he's sure, but they're at least a solid color. Now if only that color wasn't pink.

Something on his face must show his thoughts because Bull laughs at him. “Hey, it's only while I wash your clothes.”

With a sigh Dorian steps into the pants, and bunches the extra fabric at the waist so he can tie it. He follows up with the shirt, careful not to mess up his hair. “Well? How do I look?”

Bull doesn't answer at first, so Dorian turns to look at him. He smirks at the way Bull's staring at him. He hasn't forgotten that he looks good in anything, but it's still flattering.

“I think...” Bull breathes out in a rush, looking away. “That you look damn good in my clothes. ...Might have to ruin yours. You wash colors with bleach, right?”

“Don't you dare.” 

Bulls joking, right? He has to be. Still, Dorian watches very carefully as Bull puts his clothing in a hamper, just to make sure. It's all darks, so he lets it slide. Mostly, anyway. 

“Hey, think you can handle breakfast? I'd get it, but” Bull lifts up the basket with a sheepish grin. “Think this covers morning after politeness. Eggs're in the fridge if you want, coffee and cereal in the cabinet. Thanks, Dorian.”

Dorian blinks for a moment, staring at Bull's back as he heads towards what he can only assume is the laundry room. Did... did that really just happen?

He wonders if he's being tested. By The Maker or Bull, he's not sure which. Either way, he'll pass.

~

Later, he concludes that he's most definitely being tested by Bull. As well as the man's three children. The jury is still out on whether or not The Maker is testing him as well, but Dorian is willing to bet so.

It had seemed easy enough at first, entering the kitchen after he'd grabbed his phone. There were messages waiting for him, but he decided to deal with them later. The children came in one by one, and sat at the table like zombies.

Dorian had shrugged and gotten out bowls and milk, followed by spoons, determined to let them sort it out among themselves. That had worked well enough until the first fight. There was only enough of the yellow cereal for one bowl, and Rocky got it last time so it was Skinner's turn this time. Except Rocky wasn't okay with this.

Dorian broke up the fight by promising toast, except he had no idea where Bull kept his bread. After a few minutes, he found it, but by then Skinner had decided she didn't even want the cereal anymore and Krem wanted toast as well. 

Which was all well and good, he'd thought. He got toast ready for them all, as well as bowls of cereal for Rocky and Skinner, who changed her mind. Then Krem wanted eggs to go with his toast because the little shit wanted to see Dorian cry, so.

That brings him to now, where he's scraping scrambled eggs which are hopefully edible onto Krem's plate. _Maker please let him not poison Bull's child._

“Can I have eggs to?” Rocky pipes up, and when Dorian looks over he balks at the toast and cereal sandwich... contraption he appears to be eating. 

“...Why not?” Dorian lets out a weary sigh and makes another batch of scrambled eggs. Like before, it takes him half a carton before he deems what he has as edible enough for the boy, and he only winces a little when Rocky adds it to his breakfast abomination.

He hasn't eaten himself yet, so Bull's laugh when he enters the kitchen is not appreciated. In the slightest bit.

“Thanks, Dorian.” Bull murmurs against Dorian's lips as he leans over to kiss him. That combined with how Bull pours himself a bowl of pink sugary …puffs... instead of asking Dorian to attempt cooking again wins back some points in his favor. But not much.

“Sorry I took so long.” Bull manages in between bites of cereal, “Your pants had to be washed separately, so I had to wait until I got one load in the dryer before putting those in. Hope you don't have much planned today, you'll be here awhile. Unless you wanna pop back over later for them, I don't mind.”

“Not really. I've got finals next week, but seeing as how I passed most of these classes once already back home, I don't think I'll need to study much.” As if Dorian's about to go outside dressed like this, comfortable though Bull's clothing may be.

“Mmm.” Bull chews on his food in thought, but wisely doesn't comment after a glare from Dorian. 

Still, Dorian doesn't let him get away with it. 

“Of course it's aggravating to have answers I know are correct marked wrong, but seeing as how I still manage to be among the top performing students at that miserable little community college, I'll live with a less than stellar grade.” Dorian shrugs. “Somehow.”

“C'mon, eat. Tell you what, next time you're over I'll make pancakes.” Bull chuckles at him, and passes Dorian a bowl of cereal. Since it's a sensible kind that isn't an artificial color, he accepts it.

“And Orlesian Toast?” Rocky eagerly leans over his own bowl, which as somehow been refilled even though Dorian's sure there wasn't any of his chosen poison left. 

“Yes, and Orlesian Toast to.” Bull reaches over to ruffle Rocky's hair, earning him a squawk of indignation.

“What about yourself?” Dorian asks when the domestic scene passes, telling himself he is not charmed by the entire thing. He's not a good liar. “Any plans for today?”

“Mmm, gotta get the boys school supplies later.” Bull grins at his children's combined groan, following it with his own booming laughter. “Well we could wait til last minute again boys, but after the way you complained last time? I don't think so.”

Dorian's confused for awhile when Bull winks at him over the top of the kids heads. He gets it a moment later when they start discussing among themselves what kind of backpacks and notepads they want, letting Dorian and Bull talk once more.

“Do you... need company?” 

~

And that is the story of how Dorian spends the afternoon piling notebooks into shopping carts, as well as advising Skinner and Rocky on their back to school fashion. Both children ignore him, sticking to cartoon mascot emblazoned clothing, but at least they humor him by getting one or two of the choices he suggests.

Krem, for his part, ignores Dorian. He supposes that's better then outright hostility. 

Eventually Bull declares them done and has everyone carry back a few bags, even Dorian. He accepts but makes sure Bull can see him rolling his eyes. 

Car rides with children... are about what Dorian expects. It's even worse than earlier, after they'd packed into Bull's van once his clothes were dry enough to wear. 

The children are tired out and whiny from lack of food and boredom. He's lost count of how many fight's and 'She's kicking my seat' 'What, no I'm not!' exchanges he's listened to in the past half hour. 

So he doesn't argue when Bull pulls into a fast food place.

He does however make sure to order _exactly_ what he wants. Call Dorian petty, if Bull's buying, he's going to accept after the day they've had. With extra fries and an extra large drink. 

Which is perhaps unfair of him, since he did invite himself along...

“Deep thoughts?” Bull pokes him with a straw.

The two of them are sitting and eating, while the children take turns between running into some kind of... indoor playground, and grabbing bites of their meals and screaming. It's giving him a headache.

“Mmm...” Dorian takes a bite of his sandwich, fiddles with his phone. Five missed messages from Felix, two from Josephine. He really aught to reply. 

Sighing, Dorian sets his food down and scoots back his chair. He gives Bull a tired smile at the concerned look he receives, and vaguely motions towards the bathroom. Bull nods at him while mouthing 'Gotcha.' 

At least, that's what Dorian assumes. He's tired enough Bull could've said anything. Either way, he marches to the bathroom, winces once inside, but manages to find a clean enough stall to hold up in while he replies to the texts.

There's... a multitude from Felix, and he reads each one in turn. His research is going well, and from what Dorian told him about Josephine's agreement to help, he thinks they have a real shot at their plan.

In the meantime, Josephine has texted him a few times to update on how things went with her and Cassandra meeting with Mother Giselle.

Oh and if Dorian doesn't mind, she'd like him to help train her new employee tomorrow when he comes in. Since this was his idea. He sends her an affirmation, as well as his thanks.

'That reminds me' Josephine replies a moment later. 'Are you going to tell Bull about this? Giselle is going to arrange to get him to work this once, as well as come along so she can be sure we aren't abusing her charge, but he'll need a ride in the future.'

A good point. Dorian takes a deep breathe and tucks his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the chime of another message received.

He can't put this off any longer. 

Bull looks up when he comes back, a slight frown marring his features as he studies Dorian. Dorian shrugs in reply as he sits down, and takes a few sips of his drink for courage. What he wouldn't give for some alcohol instead.

“Bull... do you remember how you told me about Grim? About how you wish you could do something to help him, beyond adopting him, since you can't?” Dorian nibbles at his sandwich. It tastes like ash in his mouth, so he sets it back down.

Bull frowns more, brows knitting together in confusion. “Ah... Yeah? That was only two days ago. You feelin' alright, Big Guy?”

Dorian allows the hand on his forehead, if only to draw comfort from it as he sighs. What he's about to say might be overstepping his bounds. If he'll lose Bull because of it... well, better to enjoy this closeness while he has it.

“I might've – That is to say, I did. I.” Dorian breathes. He takes another sip of his drink. He breathes again. “I talked to my friend Felix about it. He's the one who helped me leave my home – he likes to keep up on international law. For fun. I - I am rambling, my apologies.”

Bull watches him, an unsure look on his face. His skin is paler then it was a moment ago – is Bull scared? Hmm. 

“I realize it wasn't my place, but. He had an idea. I talked it over with Josephine, and Cassandra agreed to help, and... if we can get enough money together – Grim can get an apartment for cheap in my building, the landlord owes me besides after all the crap I've put up with – and Josephine has agreed to hire him – Cassandra talked it over with Mother Giselle, I don't know how she managed to convince her... I.”

Dorian breathes again, reaching up to straighten his hair and close his eyes. “The boy won't be in the system that much longer anyway. If we can get a judge to rule favorably, he can be declared an adult now. Meaning he'll have all the responsibilities of one, but that also means he can't be sent back to anyone who hurts him ever again and I-”

He has to stop then for fear of squeaking. Bull's rushed forward so fast Dorian can't even blink, enveloping him in a bone crushing hug. Following it with a deep kiss. The other parents waiting for their children to finish playing and come eat are staring at them, but oh. 

Dorian can't bring himself to give a flying fuck.

“This could still fail. I – He's going to start his adult life pretty low on the social ladder. We'll have to take a few months to get everything ready before appealing to a judge-”

“We'll make it work. Shit, Dorian, I was afraid he was gonna run away or end up dead. ...Thank you.” Bull kisses him one more time, then sets him back down on his feet. 

“Yes... well...” He's not sure why his face is heating up. It's not as if he's afraid of being praised. Maker knows he didn't really do much – the bulk of the work was done by Felix, Josephine, and Cassandra.

Bull grins down at him all the same. Dorian can't help but feel warm.

“Blech, do you guys have to kiss in front of us?” So of course the boys choose that moment to finish playing. 

Ah, well. Such is life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm. I'm not going to pretend to know what the modern equivalent of Thedas Laws would be so I based it on my own country's.
> 
> It's called Emancipation and I have some personal experience with it in case it wasn't obvious.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to Star for the betaing and cheer-leading. Feel better soon!

There's a chill in the air, so Dorian wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and tugs his fingerless gloves so they sit firmly on his hands. If Josephine wasn't off doing something else – meeting with an author about a book signing he thinks - she'd roll her eyes at him. It might be warm for Ferelden, but it's positively frigid for a Vint, and he stands by that.

Besides, if she thinks he's being ridiculous now, wait until she sees how he dresses in the winter. Even if it does make his inner fashionista cry. Although this year will be different – he's going to see about getting some more stylish layers instead of wearing whatever's warmest and cheapest. 

Maker help him, with that in mind Dorian might almost be looking forward to winter. Which is just as well, as he knows by now that Ferelden falls come and go in the blink of an eye.

A grunt gets his attention.

“Yes, that looks about right I'd say.” Dorian glances over at where Grim is shelving books, but doesn't get up to help him. Josephine only said to train the boy, and after all someone needs to man the register. For all there are only three customers here right now.

Well, possibly five customers now. The door opens, and Bull enters, followed by Krem, Rocky, Skinner, and apparently he's watching Dalish. Oh, that's right, Dorian's got a tutoring session with her tomorrow, he'd forgotten. 

That must show on his face, for Bull laughs at him before heading off to get something from the cafe.

“Hey! Children must be attended!” Dorian calls after him, laughing himself. He's not that worried. For all things are still a little well, rocky is the only word he can use between the children and himself, He knows they're fairly well behaved. 

If Josephine asks, he'll tell her it was training for Grim. He's not going to be shadowing Dorian forever, and he has to learn to think on his feet.

Dorian decides not to study how he sees Rocky as a name and not a descriptor, now. It's unimportant. Besides, Bull's holding out a stryrofoam cup of coffee to him.

“Looked like you could use this.” Bull sets down a stack of cash, and shows Dorian his own container, as well as a pile of assorted pastries so Dorian can ring him up.

“Coffee **and** a ride home? Ah, you spoil me.” Dorian hands him back his change before taking the coffee for himself, as well as a quick kiss. It's not the best brew he's ever had, but he appreciates the gesture.

It's then he hears girlish squealing, followed by a crash. His eyebrows raise as high on his face as they'll go, and he gives Bull a pointed look as he takes a sip of his drink. 

Bull chuckles and heads off to deal with his children. Good. Dorian doesn't want a repeat of the Sera incident. 

Grim comes over once Bull's headed back to the childrens section, a searching look on his face.

“No, I haven't forgotten. I'm going to speak with my landlord later. You should have a place to stay by the end of the week.... then next month, we'll see about appealing to a judge. Josephine is very impressed with your work so far, you know.” Dorian grins up at him, and Grim nervously smiles back.

It's been a little over a month since Grim's started working here, and while he does a good job, at times he's still nervous. It doesn't help that customers have a tendency to get impatient with him over not speaking, if not out and out rude. 

Dorian can relate, albiet for very different reasons. Josephine's the only boss he's had in this country who won't tolerate mistreatment of her employees because of where they were born. Or other things.

Still, Dorian's confident Grim will be happy here even after Dorian's left. Not that he's planning on quitting just yet. He'll wait until he's certified as a tutor, and picked up some more students. Shouldn't take him more than a few months.

He's still taking a few classes out of pride, but most of his focus is going towards acing a training program offered by the community college. Proving that the place does have some use beyond wasting his time. As well as his hard earned cash.

“We didn't railroad you into this, did we?” Dorian leans forward, nerves written on his face. At Grims responding eyebrow raise, he sighs. “I know, I keep asking that. It's just... Well.” Dorian shrugs.

Despite not finishing his sentence, and explaining the unease he feels over everything going right for a change, Grim seems to understand. He offers Dorian a hand to shake, but pulls back when Dorian reaches out to take it. Instead, he goes through a few complicated hand gestures.

Dorian blinks back at him in confusion.

“It's a secret handshake.” Bull says as he approaches them, arms laden down with books. He shrugs when they look at him. “Krem deserves a reward for passing his math test – thanks for helping him study, by the way – and Rocky needs to work on his science fair project, and well. Dalish got Skinner into this book series...”

“Ugh, that Tethras drivel? I can't believe you're letting her read those. If I ever meet the author I swear I'll give him a piece of my mind.”

Bull grins at him like there's a joke Dorian's not getting. It's most distressing, so Dorian turns back to Grim and sighs, offering his hand once more.

“Show me again?”

Grim's glad to. Dorian still doesn't get why a secret handshake is so important, but it cheers the lad up. So he tolerates it. 

He's got it down by the time Josephine shows up to releive him. Or something passable, at least.

~

Dorian leans his face against the cool glass of the window, and looks out at the falling leaves. One would almost think it peaceful, if not for the squabbling children he can hear in the back. Rocky wants to stop for a soda, but Krem wants ice cream, and the girls are discussing those books of theirs.

Although how anyone can eat ice cream in this weather he'll never understand. He swears he can feel frost on his face, though he knows if he says anything of the sort Bull will laugh at him. Doesn't make it any warmer.

“Coming over for dinner?” Bull breaks his reverie, voice soft and fond. “You might as well, already feeding Dalish, what's one more plate?”

“Mmm.” Dorian turns to face him. “I'd love to, but I need to meet with Sera first and I don't know how long that will take. Besides...” He shrugs, laughing a little. “Dalish always tries to get me to teach her if I come over during sleepover time, and frankly Hawke's not paying me enough for that.”

“Ha, she's paying you plenty, Big Guy.” Bull grins at him, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the road.

That's true enough he supposes. Although he'd originally been hired solely for magical lessons, he's found himself teaching her other things as well. They've worked out a schedule where Dorian spends a full day with her once a week. Isabela – he refuses to call her Bela – comes by on her bike to pick him up, laughing at his screams all the while.

Dorian really, really wonders if her license is falsified but as he likes being paid, he keeps that opinion to himself.

The rest of the time? Dalish will sleepover at Bull's twice a week, and then Dorian spends the morning tutoring her in Bull's garden. It's unorthodox, but it works for them.

“It'll go fine. He rented to you, didn't he?”

“Yes, after disparaging my hair, my state of dress, and demanding to be paid upfront.”

“Dorian. From what I know of your building, every tenant pays up front. I thought that's why you wanted to live there...?” Bull lets the question hang, curious but not pushing.

There's... still a lot they haven't talked about. Dorian knows Bull isn't telling him everything, He's worked out bits and pieces of Bull's past over time. Of course he'd like to know more, but. Well.

It's not like Dorian has told him everything, either. He hasn't mentioned his father, or what he tried to do. Hasn't mentioned why he's still so scared, despite no attempts at contacting him or dragging him back home by force being made in nearly half a year. 

Andraste's ass, Dorian hasn't even told him about those attempts in the first place.

“...Yes. Well. I'm still taking Sera as backup. Maker knows why, but the man has a soft spot for her.”

~

“You want me to agree to lease an apartment to a fifteen year old. Whose only held down a job for two months, and isn't even here?” Blackwall looks up at them from where he's screwing in a replacement door for one of apartments on the first floor. He holds Dorian's gaze for all of half a minute before he laughs.

Dorian shoots Sera an annoyed look. He'd asked her to bring Taash for back up, but no. Sera said they'd be fine without the extra muscle. She'd said Blackwall would be reasonable.

“Might I remind you that I have always paid on time, in full, and I have never been a nuisance to this building?” Dorian forces himself to hold still, though he desperately wishes to fidget. Or set his landlord on fire. One of the two.

Blackwall... is not a bad man, exactly. He's shady, certainly. But the rent is fairly cheap, and the building is standing. That was better than Dorian could hope for, back when he first signed a month to month lease.

But he's never gotten along with Dorian, and has a tendency to ignore him instead of returning his calls about doors and locks. 

“Might be.” Blackwall shrugs, turning back to tighten a screw. “Heard plenty of complaints 'bout you, mind.”

“What?! I've never-”

“People are just shits, Beardy, you know that.” Sera cuts him off, and moves to hold the door steady while Blackwall finishes up. “'Sides, ya wouldn'ta kept rentin' to him iffin he really was an arse. Kid's alright, promise.”

Blackwall considers them both, then looks at Sera. Dorian bites his lip to keep from reminding him how many times his locks have been picked. Once by children, no less. 

Probably for the best, as Blackwall nods. “Aye. If you're vouching for him, Sera, I'll give him a chance. One of the apartments on floor three's just opened up besides. Could use the revenue.”

“Maybe on fixing the locks?” Ah. There goes Dorian's tongue. Sera kicks his shin for his trouble. 

Blackwall only holds his gaze before reaching down to pick up his tools. “Rents due tomorrow. Don't forget.”

And then he is off. Brusque and to the point, that is Blackwall.

“...Well, I suppose we had better call and let them know the good news...” 

“Not it!” Sera's off and up the stairs before Dorian can even blink. 

He sighs, shaking his head as he pulls his phone from his pocket. At least she'd gotten Blackwall to change his mind. Though he's a trifle annoyed the man listens to her with ease while ignoring Dorian. Ah, well.

“Hello, Mother Giselle? Can you put Grim on? Yes I am aware he doesn't speak. He still listens, and I'd prefer to tell him about this myself.”

~

The next day sees him at the Chantry, bright and early, ready to help Grim pack up and move in. At least that's what Dorian would like to say. 

No, instead he spends the morning with Dalish. They've moved on to protective spells now, though he doesn't know why she insists on knowing how to cast a barrier. She says its so she can be like Mama Merill, which is thoroughly confusing but Dorian doesn't press. 

He'd also like to say time flies but it doesn't. It drags, and while he usually enjoys his sessions with the girl, he's all the more grateful when Isabela comes to pick her up.

In the car, thankfully.

“Hey Hot Stuff.” Isabela winks at him after kneeling to hug her daughter.

Dorian only sighs in reply.

“Mama 'Bela, Look what I can do!” 

They watch Dalish show off for awhile, Isabela proud as can be. Dorian takes the time to correct her form when she finishes, causing a pout. But she copies his movements dutifully, and soon enough she's showing them a spell once more.

“She really is a bright girl. If my previous charges were as studious as she is, I doubt I would've hated teaching so much...”

“Just as well! Then you might not have had that row with your professor, and then you might not have been expelled, and well. I don't need to remind you of everything that lead up to your Father doing what he did. Or tried to do.” Isabela grins at him, for all her words make him shiver. 

“I...” Dorian takes a step back, hands grasping for a staff that isn't there to protect him. Isabela laughs.

“Relax.” She winks, turning serious now. “I know everything. Or all the juicy gossip, at least. And oh, yum, isn't it juicy. You're safe from me.”

She runs her eyes over his form and bites her lip. “Unless you don't want to be...”

“I...”

“Really, relax. I'm only playing.” Isabela laughs, then turns to clap at her daughters performance. 

Dorian can't help but do the same, but not because of any pride he may feel. It's more that... he... he feels numb. Moving on autopilot. He's been so happy lately, and then to have his Father brought up so suddenly... He...

“Look, I didn't tell you that to frighten you. I know what it's like to have a parent fuck your life over. We have to make the best of it, is all I'm saying. C'mon, Sweetie, let's go. We'll get lunch on the way home.”

Isabela's gone in flash, leaving Dorian to wrap his arms around himself and stare at the retreating car.

Bull finds him like that when he comes home for lunch. He doesn't ask what's wrong.

Instead Bull ushers him inside, and offers him a bowl of soup and sandwich. Dorian gratefully accepts.

“You know... Whatever's got you spooked. You can tell me.”

Dorian holds his bowl up to his lips and takes a deep drink. Normally he'd admonish himself for his manners but he just can't bring himself to care. Besides, when he'd tried using the spoon his hands had shook so much it caused quite the clatter. 

“Alright... Can't blame you for wanting your secrets.” Bull reaches out to brush his hand over Dorian's hair.

Dorian closes his eyes and leans into the stroking. Life is good. No memory of back home can destroy that for him. Never.

~

He's still a bit shaken the next day, despite spending the evening with a bottle of wine and a good book. It must show in his face, for when Bull comes by to pick him up he offers Dorian an enveloping hug before their customary kiss.

Bull's kindness extends to letting him pick the radio station on the drive to the Chantry, even if he does grimace at the classical station Dorian tunes into. Dorian's grateful he was able to convince Bull that they should help Grim move in during the day while his boys are at school. He doubts he could handle their chatter right now. Or their questions.

When Bull parks, he looks over at Dorian with a worried eye, fingers beating a tune on the steering wheel. They've arrived before Sera and her Woof, so there's so time to wait before going in to help Grim move.

The lad doesn't have a lot of things, but it would've taken two trips with just Bull's car, so. Dorian enlisted Sera's help. Alright, he bribed her, which in turn lead to her asking her girlfriend to borrow her mother's car, which leads them to now. 

Where they are waiting for back up. In silence. Because they are adults in a healthy relationship. One which Dorian is not sabotaging like he sabotages everything else in his life.

Well. He hasn't yet, at least. He's not about to, either. With a sigh, Dorian opens his mouth to speak, and - Bull beats him to it.

“Look, whatever 'Bela told you yesterday... don't take it seriously. She's not the most stable of people. She likes to shake people up, to make sure they're not going to betray her down the line.” Bull shrugs, offering Dorian a sad smile. 

“She must've thought you were getting too close. And shit, I can't blame her. Dalish adores you. Whatever it is, she's just trying to poke you. Making sure you stick around even if things aren't great. It's stupid and it's bullshit but it's 'Bela.” 

There's nothing Dorian can say to that, so he wraps his arms tighter around himself and looks at Bull. They look at each other for a moment before Dorian speaks.

“Aren't you going to ask me what it was?”

“Nah. I can tell you don't want to talk about it. I'm curious, but if you want me to know you'll tell me someday.”

They lapse into silence back into silence. Dorian taps out a message on his phone, telling Sera to hurry up. She sends him a rude response. At least, he thinks it's rude. Sera's text speak is sometimes beyond him.

“Are you ever going to tell me their stories?” Dorian asks suddenly. He leans against the window, but turns so he can watch Bull as they wait. 

“Their stories?” Bull looks back at him, fingers still tapping out a tune. Dorian thinks it's to one of Bull's poppy hits.

“Yes. I know Grim's, I've worked out Dalish's... but I'm quite curious about Rocky's, Skinner's, Krem's. Even the illusive Stitches must have a tale.”

“Ah.” Bull shrugs. “Most of it you know. Got close to 'em after Krem, and Krem's... that's his story to tell. Too much personal shit otherwise. Oh, look, the girls are finally here.”

It's an unsatisfactory answer Dorian will admit. However, he can't help but feel grateful as Sera knocks on the door of the van.

“Oi! Shift yer arses, lazy louts! Not gonna wait all day!”

“Sera I. Sera, we were the late ones. Sera. Sera. Sera no!”

Perhaps it's childish to lock the door on her when she tries to open it and drag them out, but Bull laughs at Dorian's prank. 

~

The apartment's probably better than Dorian's, all things considered. It's got a main area for a bed, and then a small kitchen nook as well as a bathroom with shower. Not that much better, but he caught Bull testing the locks and nodding in satisfaction earlier, so. 

At least Grim will have that. 

“The laundromat's on the bottom floor, and don't use the third washer, ever. Blighted thing always steals my money. Also, I wouldn't recommend leaving your clothes to dry while you run errands. We've got a clothes theif somewhere in this building, and I've run afoul of them once or twice. Also -”

“I think he's got it, Dorian.” Bull wraps an arm around Dorian's shoulders, and leads him towards the door. 

“Well, Alright, but.” Whatever he was going to say next is cut off as Bull whispers in his ear that he thinks Grim's getting overwhelmed. Dorian glances over his shoulder as they leave, and he has to agree.

Grim's laying back on his bed: Just a matress for now, but it's clean and covered in spare sheets from the Chantry. Boxes of his things surround him, and Sera's trying to engage the lad in a game of some sort while Taash is unpacking the kitchen. He catches Dorian looking and nods at him, following it with a thumbs up.

He'll be alright. So Dorian doesn't fight it as Bull walks him out into the hall, and then up the stairs to his own apartment.

When he started caring so much about one of Bull's boys Dorian will never know, but he makes a mental note to check up on Grim later. Maybe bring down some coffee. Does Grim drink coffee? Maybe he'll bring down whatever odd drink Sera keeps stowing in his mini fridge instead. 

Dorian thought he saw strawberry soda in there last time he looked...

~

“You remember what we practiced, right?” Bull's hands roam over Grim's shoulders, straightening his clothes. “Answer all of the judges questions. A nod will do, and be firm. You want to prove you're an adult, and shit Kiddo, this is the first step.” 

Bull takes a deep breath, surely about to go on, when Dorian steps forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

“I think he heard you the first three times, Amatus.” Dorian laughs to hide his own nerves. 

They can't go in with Grim into the courtroom and it's killing Bull. Only Mother Giselle is allowed, as she is technically Grim's legal gaurdian. But they've done all that they can; Bull going so far as to buy the boy a suit.

Dorian can't believe it's been three months since they first implimented the plan. It's gone rather well, only a few hiccups here and there. This is the final step, and... Dorian's not sure how Bull will take it if things fall through. 

Kaffas, he's not sure how he'll take it himself if this doesn't work out. He's grown fond of Grim, and while he could still work at the bookstore if he's not declared legally an adult today... Oh, that probably won't happen. Giselle has bent enough strings as it is, as have Josephine and even Blackwall.

He wants this to work out. Sighing, he offers his hand to Grim. Grim smiles as the two of them go through the teens secret handshake routine. Then Grim nods at Bull, and steps back towards Mother Giselle. 

“Good luck in there, young man.” Dorian waits until the door closes to reach for Bulls hand and give it a squeeze. “Come on. Let's go wait with the others.” 

It's a little frightening how quiet Bull is as Dorian leads him by the hand back to the waiting room. But he doesn't say anything, only leans on him as Bull takes a seat. Silently letting him know Dorian's there for him.

The waiting room is jam packed. Josephine got one of her other employees to cover the bookstore today, and Cassandra sits beside her to offer support. Bull wouldn't let his boys take off school, but the Hardings are there; looking comical as they sit in chairs built for humans. Even the Hawke trio is milling about, Dalish switching from lap to lap as she babbles.

It takes forever for Grim to return. 

It's quiet when he does. The teenager steps into the room first, followed by Mother Giselle. They're both frowning, and from beside him Dorian can hear Bull sighing. Then the little shit grins and flashes a peace sign.

“It was a success. From this moment onwards, Grim is a legal adult in the eyes of Ferelden.” Mother Giselle pats Grim on the shoulder then steps to the side. “As wonderful as it was to have you under my care, I am grateful you will no longer need it.”

The room erupts in a cheer, Bull standing up to swing Grim into his arms. Everyone rushes forward to offer their congratulations, such that no one notices Mother Giselle leaving. Well, no one except Dorian.

He catches her eye as she's heading off. She gives him a nod, and that's enough for the both of them. True, they haven't had the friendliest of exchanges up until this point, but. He thinks they understand each other better now. There's no need to say anything.

Besides, Dorian has his own congratulations to offer.

~

He's not really surprised Bull insists on throwing a party for Grim when they return home. If anything, he's surprised that Grim agrees to it. It's an impromptu little gathering; a few pizza's ordered while everyone brings something with them.

Dorian's contribution is cake from a nearby bakery. The fact that he didn't cook it is a gift unto itself.

It seems like everyones there: Bull's boys home from school, The Hardings showing up with their children in tow; Josephine with a cases of soda, trailed by Cassandra carrying bottles of wine. The Hawkes liven things up with even more pizza, Sera shows up with her Woof and a few of her siblings; Dorian starts to loose count of all the new faces.

So perhaps it's to no ones surprise that he slips out into the garden for some quiet. It's chilly, even more so now that the sun is setting, but...

He can't help but smile as he sits down on the bench by the watering can sculpture.

“Such a silly thing...” And yet, he loves it. The garden's changed in the autumn air; leaves are turning colors and Bull keeps hemming and hawing about bringing in what he can, and harvesting the rest. He says he'll do it before first frost, but Dorian's not so sure he believes him.

“Suits this place, though.” Isabela's voice startles him, and he turns in time to see her sitting down next to him on the bench.

Dorian wraps his arms around himself, remembering the last time they talked. He shudders for a moment, shaking his head. No, no he wont be frightened any longer.

“Yes. It's large, mismatched, and strangley charming. One would almost think it was made for him – Oh, wait. It was.” Dorian laughs at his little joke.

Isabela doesn't join in. Instead, she reaches into her pack, and pulls out a stack of papers. Followed by an even larger stack. She sets them beside him and gives him a pointed look.

“What's this...?”

“You might not even need these anymore, but Hawke figures you should have them. Should make a few things easier, at least.”

It's then that Dorian realizes what he's looking at. These are all the records from his past circles and colleges, every record he could ever hope to need. It doesn't include access to his old accounts, but as they were frozen shortly after he fled in a panic, he's not surprised. 

“I... This is... How in Thedas did you...”

“If you're a friend of Bulls, you're a friend of mine. I take care of my friends.” Isabela pulls herself to her feet, dusts herself off, and turns to head back to the party. She calls back as she leaves: “As to how? The less you know about that, the better.”

Dorian can only stare after her. Hasn't he been in this situation recently, so surprised and overwhelmed by Isabela? The Deja Vu is only made worse when he sees Bull marching towards him.

He frowns, noticing the way Bull's limping along. Damn cold must be bothering Bull after all, for all he's said it doesn't. Dorian will have to figure out a way to trick Bull into letting him take care of his knee later... maybe he'll say he needs to practice for a lesson with Dalish? Yes, that will work.

“Missed you inside.” Bull says as he sits down next to him. He glances curiously over at Dorian's papers, but doesn't ask about them. Dorian wonders if he knew about this in advance.

“Yes, well... Sometimes crowds get to me.” Now that is a lie if he's ever told one. And yet, it's not... for all he used to be the life of the party, he still feels unsure in this new land. 

“Ah...” Bull seems to understand. He wraps an arm around Dorian's shoulder, and pulls him into his lap. Dorian feels the need to grumble over it, but he only sighs in contentment when Bull rests his chin on Dorian's hair.

It's nice. 

“Well... we did it. Or rather, Grim did it.”

“Yeah.” Bull laughs, dropping a kiss to Dorian's hair. “He did.”

“Mmm.... I'm proud of him.”

“I am to.” Bull murmurs against Dorian's hair, hands running over his sides. “I'm also proud of you, Big Guy.”

Proud of him? Whatever for? Dorian wants to ask but doesn't. Everything is too warm, and laying on Bull is so relaxing. He'll just close his eyes for a moment....

He feels a vague sensation of being lifted, can hear the jingle of Bull's brace as he walks, and then Bull shushing people for talking too loud...

Followed by overwhelming softness as he's set down in a bed, and a blanket pulled over him. Then the world is lost to him, but for once that's not a bad thing. It's not like the times he's passed out from drink on the floor.

For one thing, he's certain everything will be fine when he wakes up. Yes, everything will be alright. 

Of that he is most sure.

**Author's Note:**

> -edited because it was worrying people -
> 
> Alright, I haven't written in about half a year, I've got 6 other things I should be working on but this... came to me. This is my first multichaptered fic, and I've got an idea on where to go with this, so don't worry, I'll keep at it. Thanks guys!


End file.
